Starting to Notice You
by makecents
Summary: Gotham was growing sicker by the day. Mia just wanted to help - she was a psychiatrist after all. But was it really the best idea to get involved in the chaotic mess that was Arkham Asylum? How did this one, simple man have the ability to bring her life crashing down around her? Joker/OC. Dark fic, all the trigger warnings: violence, sexual content, non/dubious consent.
1. Chapter 1: Arkham

Gotham was growing sicker by the day. Mia just wanted to help - she was a psychiatrist after all. But was it really the best idea to get involved in the chaotic mess that was Arkham Asylum? How did this one, simple man have the ability to bring her life crashing down around her? Joker/OC. Dark fic, all the trigger warnings: violence, sexual content, non/dubious consent.

**Hi all! I watched the Joker a few weeks ago and absolutely loved it - this story quickly formed in my head so I needed to get it down on paper. The Joker in this story is mainly based on Joaquin Phoenix's Joker, but also some of of Heath's version. This is somewhat like a version of Harley for JP's Joker but only really to the extent that Mia is a psychiatrist and they meet working in Arkham; the dynamic will be very different. As for timeline this is set after the events of the **_**Joker**_ **movie but I'm fudging things a bit to have this be set in the present day, and for Arthur to be around 35-39. The main character is around 27. As mentioned in the summary this will get dark, and will probably have a hint of mary sue. It'll probably vaguely follow the storylines of BB/TDK but as & when it works for the story**

**Chapter 1 - Arkham**

It was 7am. We were mid-summer so dawn had already broken. I caught a glimpse of my nervous reflection in a puddle as I walked towards the large, white brick hospital. The giant metal letters adorning the side of the building flew out at me.

_**Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.**_

I was approaching the huge arching entrance when I stopped for a second, taking the sight in. It was dark and gloomy, as was the norm in Gotham, but this building seemed to have an even darker aura around it, as if it was shrouded in evil.

_That's dumb. It's just a building. It's a hospital. Get it together._

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath before heading inside.

The waiting room in the atrium was entirely empty, and if it hadn't been for the balding man sitting behind a metal cage at the reception booth I would've thought the place was abandoned. The chairs were strewn clumsily throughout the room, instead of sitting in neat rows, the paint was peeling on all four walls and anything made of metal looked like it had started rusting long ago. The man didn't greet me, but I approached the reception desk all the same.

"Hi... I'm starting here today - I'm the new psychiatrist."

The man took a long drag from his cigarette, staring at me for a few seconds with hooded eyes as if he was irritated that I was making him do any work.

"Name?" He barked.

"Mia Lawson."

Lazily, he pushed his chair over to the filing cabinet behind him and rifled through the contents, before pulling out a few pieces of paper. He scanned them with disinterest after slapping them down on the desk.

"Brentwood huh?" He snorted. "So how'd you wind up here? Your old boss hate you that much?"

I frowned. "No... I chose to transfer here."

The man guffawed. "Sure, whatever lady. I ain't gonna judge you for getting fired y'know."

"I didn't-"

"Sign here." He thrust the papers in my face, clearly more interested in taking another drag on his cigarette. When I was done he pressed a button that triggered a loud buzzer; the door to the right of him slid open. "You can head in."

"Um... where do I go?" I'd been expecting a bit more of a welcome.

He sighed with irritation. "Just go straight ahead. You're looking for a nurse called Helen Strong."

"Thank you, uh, Stanley." I smiled, reading his name badge.

"Yeah, yeah, hurry up." He grunted. I scurried through the door.

A long corridor stretched out in front of me, and to my surprise I saw signs of life in the rooms shooting off the sides. This seemed like the offices for the doctors and nurses. Most of the doorways I passed had someone sitting at the desk inside, stamping paperwork or talking on the phone.

"Can I help you?" I hadn't noticed a woman walking down the corridor towards me. Her dark, tightly curled hair bounced with each step.

"Oh- yes, I'm looking for-" I noticed her name tag. "You, actually. I'm Mia."

"Helen." She held out a hand absently for a handshake which I shook enthusiastically. My excitement did not translate; I could tell she was over this a long time ago. "You're the new Doctor? I'll be showing you to your office..." She was examining her nails, which were long and pink, embellished with crystals. "This way."

"Thanks." I followed her.

"So you're from Brentwood huh?" She raised an eyebrow at me. "Don't think we've ever had a transfer from over there. Between you and me, what's the real reason? Did you get fired?"

I wondered how many people were going to ask me that. Sure, Brentwood was a wonderful place to work, but... I hadn't felt like I was really doing enough. It was something, untangling the minds of Gotham's rich and famous - those who had the money or the connections to be rehabilitated in the famous Brentwood Sanctuary. But what about everyone else? What about the people who couldn't afford the suite-like rooms, the spa-style facilities & unrivalled treatment provided by the monthly five figure price tag? The downtrodden, the poor, the really sick people with no family to provide for them - they all ended up in places like Arkham. I wanted to help those people.

"No, I'm just looking for a new challenge." I smiled.

"Pft, okay." Helen snorted disbelievingly.

Why was everyone so damn cynical here?

We turned into the final doorway in the corridor. "This my office." Helen explained. "And through there -" She pointed at a door near her desk. "That's yours."

I was still holding my own belongings when she dumped a pile of folders into my arms. "As you know we're pretty short-handed, so we need you to jump in as soon as possible. These are the patients you'll be seeing today."

"Ok. Sure." I tried to inject some confidence in my voice, but it was a LOT of files. I thought I'd be eased into things a bit more.

"We're just going to slot you in wherever you're needed this week but hopefully from next week we'll be able to establish you a regular rota of patients."

"Sounds great, thank you Helen." I stumbled slightly under the weight of all the paper. "I'll let you know if I have any questions."

She shrugged in vague agreement as I wobbled over to my office door, pleased when I managed not to drop anything when turning the door handle.

The office was nothing to write home about; it wasn't particularly spacious, and didn't have the nicest decor - but it had a big window and a generously sized desk, as well as plenty of storage.

_I wonder if I can order a more comfortable chair._

I thought, sitting down in the rigid wooden one and thinking of my previous cushioned, ergonomic model.

"By the way, your first appointment is in an hour." Helen informed me, poking her head around the door.

_Better get started then. _

I picked the first file up off the top of the pile.

When Helen said jump in, she really meant thrown in the deep end. At the end of my first day I'd spoken to several serial killers, rapists, a woman absolutely _obsessed _with puzzles and a man who had bombed all of the bridges in Gotham as well as several banks, hospitals and schools. Despite this, it didn't take me too long to fall into the rhythm; schedules and logistics were pretty similar to my previous job, even if the appointments themselves were a world away.

The week passed in a blur.

"Morning Helen." I smiled, pushing the door open with the tip of my foot as I precariously balanced the tray of coffee. "Happy Friday!"

Helen raised an eyebrow at me. "Happy Friday?"

"Sorry, habit. I know it's a stupid phrase." I grimaced sympathetically. "People at Brentwood always used to say it. And Happy Monday on Mondays. Well we said it pretty much every day actually..." I laughed but I could tell she wasn't listening to me any more. "Anyway I- uh- got you a coffee!" I brandished the paper cup at her and her eyes lit up.

"You're kidding! Thanks doll!"

"I wasn't sure what you wanted so I had to guess, but I pass Starbucks on my way to work so let me know for next time."

She took a sip and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. "I usually like a shot of vanilla but this is close enough. God this is just what I needed... I'm so sick of that instant shit from the coffee machines."

I smiled to myself as I entered my office. I knew her unfriendly manner wasn't because she had a problem with me but because she just didn't care about this job - but I was determined to get on her good side. I was always determined to get on _everyone's_ good side. My Dad always said with a laugh that that was my big problem - I couldn't _bear_ the idea of someone disliking me even slightly. "_You can't make everyone like you Mia." _He'd say. Well, I could certainly try.

"Your first patient is pretty early this morning." Helen appeared at the door. "He's usually more docile earlier in the day. Here's his file." She handed a thick yellow folder to me before running to be reunited with her coffee. I took a sip of my own before pulling the file towards me noting the name on the front.

_**Arthur Fleck **_it read. _**(Joker) **_was also scrawled in brackets next to this. I gasped in recognition.

_This is that guy who killed the talk show host... the man dressed as a clown..._

Everybody knew the Joker. Even those who hadn't been watching Murray Franklin when it aired, had soon watched a recording after word got around. There had been riots around that time too; people donning clown masks and taking him as inspiration for their anarchy. That was over seven years ago; I remembered it happening just as I reached my twenties. Things had settled down a little since then but it seemed only temporary; there was just a thin seal over the anger and chaos bubbling throughout Gotham.

There were pages and pages of case notes, but the first was a list of his apparent crimes. My eyes travelled down the page slowly and my breath hitched in my throat. This wasn't the first person with murder on their '_resume'_ that I'd seen in Arkham but his was by far the most... colourful.

_Killed three Wayne Enterprises employees in subway shooting_

_Killed colleague in brutal apartment attack_

_Suspected of killing his Mother_

_Killed talk show host Murray Franklin on live TV_

_At least 23 other murders linked to Fleck in some way_

I breathed out. In Brentwood there were a few high profile criminals, but most of the patients were there for suicide attempts, severe eating disorders or other conditions that only harmed themselves. It was another world.

Arthur's diagnoses section was littered with a mess of possibilities; clearly nobody had stuck with him long enough to figure it out properly. Psychopathy, Schitzophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, ADHD... it looked like a kid with a medical textbook had just copied every word they saw in the mental health section. I wondered if any of them were correct.

I wouldn't admit it to myself, but I was nervous when I stepped out to head to the appointment. Who wouldn't be nervous to meet a man like that?

"Oh, I need to show you the way don't I?" Helen said absently, catching up with me on the way out.

"Oh I think I-" I stopped when she directed me away from where I thought I was going. We headed instead to the elevator, taking it up to the twelfth level. The floor was eerily quiet and Helen walked quickly - I wondered if she was eager to get out of there.

"Why aren't we heading to the therapy rooms?" I asked, keeping pace with her.

"The more dangerous patients are on the higher floors. The therapy rooms are attached to their cell so we can avoid moving them around too much."

I swallowed. I should've expected as much. I'd read his file. I knew what he was capable of.

"I don't think I'm going to remember the way we came next time... is it possible to get a map or something...?"

"It'll only be this week anyway, so don't worry too much about it." Helen shrugged, guiding me down the corridor.

"Oh, are you moving him to a normal room?"

"Girl, what?" She rolled her eyes. "You crazy? Of course not. I'm just sayin' you'll have scratched him off your patient list before next week. That's if you haven't quit before then. Nobody sees Arthur Fleck twice. Why'd you think we had so many openings?"

"So... who gives him therapy?"

"Every time someone new rolls in they give it a try, so he gets one session every couple months if he's lucky. Most of the time there's just no-one to do it."

"So he doesn't get real therapy? Even though he probably needs it more than anyone here?"

"Look, if you wanna step up, be my guest." She interjected. "It ain't my fault the system sucks."

I sighed. She was right. The system, society really did screw people like Arthur Fleck.

_Well, maybe I will step up. _

"Here we are." Helen stopped at a reinforced steel door. It towered over both of us, reaching from floor to ceiling with criss cross metal beams riveted every few inches. It stood next to a large window made from what I assumed was bulletproof glass, that looked into an all white room with a single table and two chairs. Cuffed to one of the two was a tall, wiry looking man. He sat casually with one ankle resting on his other knee, and a cigarette so loosely between his fingers that it looked as though it was about to fall to the ground. He was wearing the regulation Arkham gown but his face... It was mostly white - he'd painted right into the roots of his greasy, badly dyed hair - but his eyes were framed in blue diamonds and the tip of his nose and his eyebrows were red. Most terrifyingly though, he had a big red smile painted across his mouth, which didn't match the frown he was wearing that moment. He was quite still except for the occasional puff of his cigarette.

"All yours." Helen gave a fake smile, as if she knew exactly what was running through my head right now. She gestured to the orderlies standing by to unlock the door. Despite the loud clunking, the man inside didn't flinch.

"We'll be right outside Miss." The orderlies assured her. "He's fully restrained, so you'll be perfectly safe."

"Thank you." I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

The door made a loud thud as it closed behind me.

_Chill out Mia. _

I took the seat opposite him.

The man didn't look at me. He was smiling to himself, staring at the ground.

"H-Hi." I cleared my throat, snarling internally at myself to get a grip. "Hello. Your name is Arthur, right? It's nice to meet you, Arthur. My name is Mia."

He looked up as if only just having noticed me, and began to laugh. I'd read about his compulsive laughter in his case files but it was truly chilling to hear it in person; the laughter didn't meet his eyes and it sounded like he was unable to breath and laugh at the same time, choking on his own guffaws. His face returned to a blank expression so immediately after it died down which only heightened the eeriness of it. He fumbled in his pocket and lit another cigarette, flicking the old one away and sticking the new one clumsily into his mouth before looking to the ground again.

"Maybe I'll tell you a bit about myself first Arthur? I want you to feel comfortable around me, so I'll tell you anything you want to know. After that I'd like to hear a bit about you, if that's okay?"

Silence.

I continued. "So like I said, my name is Mia. I just transferred here from across the city - I was at Brentwood - near Gotham Heights if you know it. I've lived in Gotham all my life so I know this area pretty well too, so it wasn't too much of a change. Did you grow up in Gotham too, Arthur?"

He murmured something that I couldn't quite catch.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Joker." It was barely audible.

"I'm sorry-"

"JOKER!" He yelled the word and brought his palms down onto the table with a deafening slam. "Call. Me. Joker."

I hoped he hadn't seen me flinch. A few days here was already proving to be more eventful than all my years at Brentwood.

"Joker - of course, I'm sorry." I remembered this was how he'd been introduced on Murray Franklin's show, it was noted in his files but just the name itself - nothing about the meaning behind it. "This name, Joker; can you tell me a bit about where it came from?"

He smirked, looking at the wall.

"I assume it's related to your... make-up?" I probed. I suddenly thought how he must've been asked these questions a million times. "I'm sorry if I'm making you repeat yourself; I know it's frustrating starting with a new therapist. I just prefer to hear about my patients from their own voices, instead of, you know, the judgements somebody else has made." I gestured to his file and smiled.

"Do you like jokes, Mia?" He asked.

It wasn't quite on topic, but I was glad he was finally responding to me.

"Jokes? Oh - yes. I do, very much." I shifted forward in my seat a little.

"Would you like... to hear one?" He asked slowly.

"Definitely."

"What do you get - when you cross a naive psychiatrist... with a _mentally ill murderer _who hasn't been restrained properly?"

"Who hasn't..." His words set alarms off in my brain but I'd never had the quickest reflexes; I was still registering what he'd said when I felt his bony hands close around my throat. "Ugh-"

Arthur's eyes were shining as they stared straight back at me. He was smiling, pleasantly, as if he was giving me a handshake and greeting rather than throttling my windpipe.

"A-Arth-" I attempted to choke out his name as I pulled at his hands, which just made his smile widen and his grip tighten. My ears were ringing. Darkness creeped into the edges of my vision. I was going to die and I hadn't even made it a week.

"HEY! HANDS ON THE TABLE! NOW!" Sirens were going off. Two orderlies scrambled into the room, throwing the Joker off me. "HANDS ON THE TABLE!" His hands were wrenched off my neck and jerked behind his back. He stared at me the entire time he was being restrained, still wearing the same creepy smile.

"You alright?" Another orderly placed a hand on my back, leading me out of the room.

"I-I think so..." I trembled slightly, massaging my neck.

"That fucking clown. How the fuck did he get out of those handcuffs? Sorry we couldn't been quicker, did Helen not give you a panic alarm?"

"N-No..." I shivered at the thought of what would've happened if the orderlies weren't there. Helen's words echoed in my head. _"Nobody sees Arthur Fleck twice." _

_Man-up Mia. This is what you signed up for. You wanted to help people like him. _

I straightened up. "It's fine. I'm fine, thank you." The orderly nodded, stashing his baton and heading back to his post.

And that was my first encounter with the Joker.


	2. Chapter 2: Laughter

**Hi all! Another update already. Not sure how frequently I'll be updating but I'll try to make it at least weekly :) BTW if I didn't already mention - this is going to be a slow burn. Thank you for the kudos and favorites on the last chapter!**

* * *

"Oh, hey babe, you're already home." I shrugged my jacket off wearily and left my shoes at the door.

"Yep. I made dinner too."

"And that's why I love you Ben." I embraced my husband, so thankful I had him to come home to.

"For my cooking skills?" Ben grinned and raised an eyebrow as I squeezed him around the middle.

"Mostly." I joked. "But I guess you have other uses too."

"You look exhausted." He leaned down to kiss me and I closed my eyes, savouring the moment.

"You have no idea. What a week."

Ben was perfect to me. Tall, handsome, a Doctor; I'd had a crush on him since our first class together in med school. He was incredibly popular with women so I constantly wondered how I got lucky enough to lock down a guy like him. Some days I still had to pinch myself.

With our combined income as medical professionals we had a solid budget for housing, so we rented a gorgeous apartment in Gotham Heights. I had to take the subway to work as a result but it was still a pretty short commute.

"How was your day honey?" He smiled, as I sat down at the table next to him. "What are the other Doctors like? Have you met them yet?"

I grimaced. "I've met two of the three others. Can you believe they only have four Doctors for the whole facility? Well, _three_ soon - Dr Suresh is quitting next week. Had a chair thrown at her one too many times. No wonder my schedule is so rammed."

Ben choked. "...chair thrown... ?!"

"Dr Miller is nice - he's pretty private though, doesn't talk much. And I haven't met Dr Crane yet, he's still on vacation. I think he's back next week though."

"Uh... Honey... it worries me that you can talk about someone having a chair thrown at them repeatedly so casually." He put his fork down and I regretted saying anything; Ben had been against me transferring from the start. It was hard to blame him, with the terrible reputation Arkham had. I played with my food guiltily.

"I'm exaggerating. I think she's just ready to retire anyway." I mumbled.

It wasn't until we were getting ready for bed that I realised how exhausted I was. My bones ached. I wasn't doing any more exercise than usual but I wondered if it was the constant feeling of being tense, in fight or flight mode, holding in my fear.

"Mia...! What-" Ben marched over to me as I dropped my shirt onto the bed. "What on earth..." His hands reached up to my neck gently and he traced the circumference with his thumb.

"What?" I looked at the mirror. "Oh!" I gasped. A thick ring of purple bruises adorned my neck. It wasn't particularly painful but it was tender to the touch. "O-Oh my god..."

"Who did this to you?" Ben demanded angrily. "Was it one of your patients? I knew it was a bad idea to go to that- that place!"

"It's nothing..." I mumbled unconvincingly. My husband had been adamantly against me transferring to Arkham due to the reputation of the patients there. I knew he would fight even harder to convince me after this.

"It's not nothing! Are you insane? You should call Brentwood immediately, you had a good track record, I'm sure they'll take you back."

"I'm not going back there Ben." I said quietly. "I'm staying at Arkham."

"Y-You're kidding right?!"

I wasn't kidding. Obviously he had a point; it was dangerous at Arkham, and I was putting my self at risk every day I went into work. But I wasn't quitting after a week.

"Honey, I really think-"

"Ben." I snapped. "I'm staying. End of discussion."

He shook his head at me but said nothing else, climbing into bed with a sullen look.

I lay awake for a while thinking about everything. _Was_ I insane? I was definitely terrified of stepping into that room with Arthur Fleck again. But at the same time, the fear, it sent a weird thrill through me; made me feel more alive than I ever had. I finally felt like I was doing something real, really making a difference. Doing something fulfilling isn't supposed to be easy. I had to stay. I wanted to stay.

I had one main priority on my mind when I arrived to work on Monday morning.

* * *

"Hey Helen, the orderlies upstairs said something about a panic alarm?"

"Oh right!" Helen smacked her forehead. "Totally forgot." She rummaged in the drawers of her desk before pulling out a bright orange button and a set of keys. "These are yours too."

I was about to ask her how she could _possibly_ forget about something so important but bit my tongue - there was no reason to piss her off over something this small. I had it now, that was the important thing.

I clipped the device to my waistband. "Thank you."

"So, want me to take Arthur Fleck off your list?" She eyed my neck with an I-told-you-so sort of expression.

"No." I tried not to snap at her. "In fact, I want to increase his therapy sessions to three times a week."

She stared at me with raised eyebrows, a little speechless. Eventually she muttered "Your funeral hun." before making a note in her files.

"Okay I'm heading to my first appointment. See you later Helen."

Helen murmured something indistinguishable in response as I headed out which I could've sworn was "Bye crazy".

My next patient was the youngest by far I'd seen at Arkaham; he was only eighteen years old. It was horrifying to see someone so off track so early in life; how had he ended up in this place?

"Hello, it's Noah right? My name is Mia." The lower security rooms were more comfortable for both of us; there was no need for the steel doors and bullet proof glass, although there were still orderlies present outside each door. The boy wasn't cuffed to the chair; he wasn't deemed enough of a danger to me or himself. He shook violently in his seat, pulling at the sleeves of his gown and darting his eyes around the room.

"I keep telling them I didn't mean to do it." He looked up at me in terror, eyes wide and with deep, purple circles around them. "I-It was an accident! M-My mother was s-sick and..."

"Hey." It was probably foolish of me but I was never very good at putting my own safety before my patients'. I walked around the table to crouch down next to him, clasping his hand. He was shaking so hard that it made me shake by proxy. "I'm here to help, okay?" I said as soothingly as I could. "I want to hear your side of things."

He stared at me in fear, not daring to believe me.

"Everything you say to me in here is confidential, unless I have reason to believe you're going to hurt yourself or someone else." He blinked at me doubtfully. "Why don't we start with you just telling me a bit about you?"

Noah's story was heartbreaking. He'd somehow got mixed up in a robbery with some more seasoned criminals, after the promise of a cut of the money which he desperately needed. Things went south and the others had fled; Noah himself had tried but got caught up in an altercation with the store manager. He'd been given a gun by one of the others and had no idea how to handle one; him holding onto it and someone restraining him, threatening to get him sent to prison for the rest of his life - it was a recipe for disaster. Now his robbery was a murder charge and he'd ended up here.

"I hate it here." He looked constantly close to tears. "I-I can't sleep. I think one of the other patients is going to kill me."

"Who? Is someone threatening you?" I desperately wanted to help him.

"No-one in particular..." He mumbled. "Just... all of them... they all pick on me because I'm the youngest..."

I placed a hand over his again. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay Noah?" He looked unconvinced. "I'm going to see you twice a week, so you let me know if anything is going on." I smiled encouragingly. "I'm going to help you."

* * *

I tossed and turned all night before my second appointment with Arthur.

_Why am I doing this? I must be crazy. I should just cancel the appointment tomorrow._

My mind bounced back and forth between determination to help and wanting to run as far as possible from Arkham and never coming back. It took a thick layer of concealer to cover up the dark smudges beneath my eyes the next morning. I didn't want to show any sign of weakness to him; if he knew he got to me then he had the position of power. I'd decided on my approach the previous night; I was going to pretend nothing abnormal had happened in our last session. It had just been a normal discussion with another patient.

"Hello Arthur." I sat down, noting the thick metal shackle that tethered him to his chair.

_He's not getting out of that. And I have my panic alarm._

I noticed his eyes widen a little as they landed on me; he clearly wasn't expecting me to come back.

"It's a good thing you're beautiful." He rasped. "Because you're as dumb as they come."

I swallowed. "How have you been Arthur? I know it's pretty soon after our last session on Friday, but I'm going to be seeing you three times a week for now. I think we have a lot to talk about."

His lip curled in amusement and he looked away. "What did I tell you about calling me Joker?"

It took all the strength I had to keep the fear out of my words; his aura was terrifying even when he was just sitting still in a chair. "I'd prefer to call you Arthur if that's okay. To keep things a little more personal."

He snorted derisively but said nothing, still staring into the corner of the room. I decided to interpret that as an affirmation.

"So, Arthur," I continued. "I want to continue where we left off last week - you still haven't told me much about yourself."

"What are _you_ doing here princess?" He took a drag from the cigarette that was never missing from between the fingers of his right hand. "Think you can fix me, is that it?" He smirked. "Or do you just have the hots for bad boys? Think I'm just as crazy in the sack?"

"I just want to talk." I knew it was important to not read too much into what he was saying; he was going to try and intimidate me by deliberately saying fucked up things. That wasn't unusual - it was pretty standard in my line of work - but he was just so good at it. "We can start with something simple, how about you tell me about how your week has been?"

His compulsive laughter burst out again; I waited patiently as he struggled with it, his laughs eventually turning into abrasive coughs. "My week?" He laughed again. "How do you _think_ my week has been?" He gestured around the room with his unshackled hand. "There's nowhere-" He struggled to speak between his chuckles "-nowhere else I'd rather be!"

"I understand being in this place isn't fun. That's where I come in - if we work on getting you better we can get you out of here." I suggested.

He looked at me with hooded eyes. "Oh, you misunderstand." He leaned forward in his seat. "I can get out of here any time I want. As soon as it gets too boring. But I'm interested to see where you're going with this." His laugh started up again.

"You know, there's medication I can prescribe you which will help with your laugh. Would you like to try it out?"

He glared at me after his laughter died down. "You think there's something wrong with my laugh? I love to laugh! It's not socially acceptable that I laugh all the time, is that it?" He looked so angry that I shrank back.

"N-No that's not- I'm just saying I-I..." I took a deep breath.

_Get it together Mia._

"You're right. I thought it was making you uncomfortable, but if the laughter isn't a problem for you, we definitely don't need to medicate it."

He took another drag from his cigarette, not looking appeased.

"I admire you for that actually... obviously this doesn't compare to what you've been through, but I used to get made fun of for my red hair." I laughed awkwardly. "Just because it's different. I hated it so much, and one day I dyed it brown, just to try and feel more - I don't know - socially acceptable?"

He was watching me, no longer glaring, but I couldn't discern the expression on his face.

"I wish I'd been able to see it the way you do and enjoy the fact that I was different." I smiled and gestured to my bright ginger locks. "I realised eventually I guess. I just wish I'd figured it out sooner."

He said nothing, continuing to stare at me while he chewed on the end of his cigarette.

"Er- anyway. So, Arthur, back to you. I still want to hear how your week has been. Any feelings you can think of - good, bad, whatever comes into your head."

Arthur started laughing again. He laughed so hard that the white stick in his mouth was no longer anchored in place and fell to the floor. He cursed as it rolled away, out of his reach with his hand shackled to the chair.

"Hey princess." He looked at me with amusement. "Little help?"

Was it naivety? Or just a refusal to back down? I wasn't sure, but I complied, even thought it meant coming within a foot of someone who had previously tried to strangle me. "Sure." I stood up and walked to his side of the desk.

As I leaned down to pick it up, he lunged forward, making me jump and exclaim. He immediately burst into cruel laughter at my reaction; it was unsettling how much it seemed to entertain him. I tried to ignore his guffaws as I picked the cigarette off the floor, handing it to him. His hand brushed mine as he snatched it, jamming it into his mouth.

"Much appreciated." He stuck it back in his mouth as I turned away. "Oh, though one more thing..."

I cried out as he grabbed me by the hair, pulling me back down towards him. I reached down for my panic alarm but felt a severe, burning pain on the wrist that moved as he aggressively pressed the tip of the cigarette into my arm.

"A-ahh! Arthur st-" I gasped at the pain of the hot ashes on my skin. "-stop!" I attempted to prise his fingers off but his one bony hand was much stronger than both of mine put together, and he held the cigarette there for what must've been thirty seconds, leaving an angry red welt in its place.

His hand wound back into my hair and he pulled my ear towards his mouth. I could smell his smokey breath in waves across my face as he spoke and his words made my heart pound.

"If you come here again, I'll kill you."


	3. Chapter 3: Panic

**Chapter 3: Panic**

* * *

"_If you come here again, I'll kill you." _

Arthur's words echoed in my head as a constant reminder of my impending doom. Our next appointment was tomorrow already, and I hadn't decided what I should do. He was just trying to scare me off, surely? I traced the now-blistering burn on my wrist, small, but red raw and starting to pucker and scab over. What would he get out of killing me?

_It doesn't have to be rational. You know that. _

I reminded myself.

_He's got a mental illness. It could be boredom. He could believe there's a reason it's the right thing to do._

But he wouldn't be able to kill me right? The orderlies were outside, he was cuffed to the chair. I wasn't going to be stupid enough to get near him again so as long as I stayed out of his reach... I'd be fine?

"Honey, did you hear what I said?"

"What?" I snapped back to the present. "Oh I'm sorry Ben, I didn't mean to space out on you."

"It's fine, I was just saying I'll be working late again tomorrow."

"Oh- Okay, do you want me to wait up for you?"

"No I'll be back after midnight, you should sleep." He studied my face. "You OK babe? You seem troubled."

"It's nothing it's just..." I hesitated bringing up Arkham; I knew how Ben felt about it. "I'm just trying to figure out the best way to help a patient." I hadn't told him about the Joker's threat, obviously; he would flip out. I hadn't been able to hide the burn from him but it was easy to lie and say I spilt coffee on myself.

"I don't understand why they all get the luxury of being in a hospital. They should just be rotting in jail."

"Ben!" I chided. "They're sick. They deserve help, not to be abandoned."

"Yeah, you can say that again." He muttered.

I looked down sadly; I knew he was just worried about me, but it upset me how little regard he gave these people's lives. Just like everyone else.

I realised I'd made up my mind. If I didn't try to help Arthur, who else would? I'd see him in the appointment tomorrow. Hopefully it wouldn't be my last.

* * *

I had another new patient in the morning before my potential death. Her name was Lillian. She was roughly my age. The only crimes she had under her belt were some robberies, a bit of grand theft auto and one count of arson - all of which were incredibly minor by Arkham standards - but she was mainly in for an extremely severe case of multiple personality disorder.

She looked irritated as I entered the room, folding her arms and tapping impatiently on her bicep with a finger.

"Hi Lillian - or do you prefer Lily? My name is Mia."

"Right." She stated, not looking at me.

I wasn't particularly phased; this was how most of my first sessions went. The patient would be disinterested or hostile until I was able to convince them I was there to help, or that I at least wasn't going to stop trying to get them to talk. And none of them came even close to being as scary as the Joker, no matter how much they threatened or screamed at me.

"Hey look, we match!" I smiled, gesturing from my hair to hers. We both had the same ridiculously flaming ginger colour, though while mine was currently poker straight, hers cascaded down her shoulders in beautiful, thick curls. "Maybe you can show me how you do your hair like that some time. I could never get the curls to hold."

She tutted in annoyance. "It's _natural_. You think they give me access to curling irons in here?"

"I guess not." I conceded, though I wasn't phased by her rudeness. "In that case I'm jealous, it looks gorgeous."

"Look, do you want to just get on with it?" She snapped. "I can't say that being asked the same stupid questions over and over is the best part of my day."

"I'm sure it's not." I replied. "I know it's frustrating, especially as you might have to repeat things for Dr. Crane next week but-"

She looked me in the eyes for the first time and interrupted. "Dr. Crane? What about him?"

"Well I'm just filling in this week before he can return to his normal schedule, you'll be one of his patients since he specializes in your condition-"

"NO!" She shouted, so suddenly that I nearly fell backwards off my chair. She was standing up, with a look of what was unmistakeably terror in her eyes. "No! Not Dr. Crane. You can't- I won't see him!"

I was taken aback; everything I'd heard about Dr. Crane from the nurses and orderlies was that he was a very charming, popular man. So what was this reaction?

"Ah- Why not? Do you have a problem with him? Has he done something to you?" I sat forward, very concerned by her reaction.

"I-I... he..." Her eyes were as wide as saucers and I noticed her fists clenching. "H-he scares me... I..."

"Hey, it's okay." I walked over to put an arm around her. "If it's that important to you, I'll fit you into my schedule. Can you elaborate on what happened? Is there something I should know about him?"

She hesitated, looking at the ground.

"Lily? If he's hurt you, it's very important I know so I can stop it happening again to other patients." I said gently.

"He didn't hurt me, but..." She shook her head and I could tell she wasn't going to tell me today.

We talked for the rest of the hour about basic things, how she'd been feeling recently and how her medication was going. Lily wasn't super responsive but she opened up more towards the end of the appointment. I left still thinking about what she said, my mind bouncing around with possibilities. What could it be that made her so terrified of this man? I was starting to feel nervous about meeting him.

* * *

I was oddly calm as I entered Arthur's room, as if I'd come to terms with my impending doom. Or maybe it was because I was confident he wasn't going to hurt me? I was going to handle the situation? Right. That was it. Hopefully.

"Oh. Hi beautiful." Arthur looked at me with an amused smile as I entered. "I must say I'm surprised to see you."

I returned his smile. "How are you Arthur?" I sat down opposite him, trying to seem nonchalant. "So... I have a favor to ask. I know you said you'd kill me if I came back, but... can you wait until the end of the session?"

He stared at me for a beat - before bursting into laughter.

"You- you really are interesting!" He exclaimed between chuckles. "You know what I think though? I think..." he grinned at the thought. "I think you've decided you're safe. That I'm not going to kill you."

I bit my lip. Was he that good at reading people? That was supposed to be _my_ job. "Well..." I hesitated. "I think... if you really wanted to kill me you would've done it already."

"Heh. You're making a dangerous assumption that I'm predictable. That I plan things."

"I-I guess.. but, well there's only so much damage you can do if I stay over here. You're cuffed to the chair."

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh, although he didn't seem upset by my assumption. "It's funny," He said. "They think I'm not crazy enough to hurt myself to get out of this, but..." There was a sickening _CRACK_ as he started to pull his hand through the tight metal cuff, with no qualms about how his hand began to deform to allow that to happen. His thumb folded in on his palm, decreasing the circumference enough for it to slide out a few centimetres. He was surely going to have to break his hand in several places to get it out completely.

"O-Oh my god- Arthur! Stop!" I was horrified by what he was doing and my instincts took over; it was my job to protect the patient from themselves after all. If they injured themselves, I saw it as a failure. Without thinking I'd taken hold of his wrist in an effort to stop him and I fumbled in my pocket with my other hand. "Arthur please don't! Look just- I'll let you out okay? I have keys, I'll unlock it. Just... don't hurt yourself."

He stopped, looking up at me with apparent fascination.

"I- I'm not sure which one..." I tried the keys in turn, fumbling with them nervously as I worried he was going to continue what he started. "Maybe the smaller..." To my relief the metal shackle popped open with the seventh attempt and I tentatively took his hand, gently feeling where his thumb met the rest of his hand. "I think it's just dislocated..." I said, my bedside manner taking over. "I can set it for you-"

The Joker yanked his hand out of mine and before I could protest, reached over with the other and snapped his thumb back into place himself. I winced.

"Jesus Arthur- you really need to do it more carefully-" I stopped, suddenly realising how close I was to him, and how very unrestrained he was.

He saw the look in my eye as I attempted to quickly back off but he gripped my wrist, holding me in place. I reached for my panic alarm but he caught my other arm, tucking it into the grip of his first hand so he held both in place with just one fist. I noticed with fright that it was his dislocated hand; even recovering from that he was so much stronger than me!?

I trembled, waiting for him to make a move before- he just started laughing.

"You know what?" He snickered as his laughter died down. "I don't think I'll kill you today. You're too entertaining. How about I make you a deal instead?" He pointed to the orange button at my waist. "You put that thing out of reach for our session and maybe we can talk."

"My panic alarm? Why?" If that wasn't the biggest red flag for somebody who might be trying to kill you, I didn't know what was.

"I thought you wanted to establish trust between us?"

"I-I do but-"

"Then do we have a deal Mia?"

It was alarming to hear him using my name; I realised it was the first time he'd done so. But it also made me more inclined to take him seriously; maybe this was a way to get through to him? I gulped, looking at the window to the left of us. The orderlies could still see inside if they needed to, so they should notice any commotion. If he did kill me I was surely going to have _dumbest bitch ever _written on my grave.

"Okay... deal." I agreed, before I could think more about it. He let my arms go. "Here." I held it out to him. "You put it somewhere that you think is sufficiently out of my reach."

Smirking, he took the button from me and slipped it into his pocket.

"So." He took a drag of his cigarette. "Tell me about you princess."

I opened my mouth, a little confused. This wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind, but it was a start at least. I decided to humor him for a bit.

"Well, let's see." I played with my fingers, unable to meet his intense stare without looking away occasionally. "I'm 28, I've been at Arkham for 3 weeks now; before that I was working at the Brentwood Sancturary. I drink at least five cups of coffee a day and people say I have terrible taste in movies."

"Are you close to your parents?" He tilted his head like a curious puppy.

It was a bit of a tangent, but I decided to cooperate for now. "My mother died when I was about two, and my father died a couple of years ago of a heart attack."

"Any siblings?"

"No, I was an only child."

"Relatives?"

"My parents didn't have siblings either. And my grandparents are long gone."

"Tragic. Does that make you sad?"

"Not really." I smiled politely. "I never really knew my mother and I've had time to process my Father's death; it was natural causes and he was getting old. It was his time." I could tell what he was getting at. "No tragic backstory here."

"But you're all alone. How do you deal with that?"

"Oh I'm not alone. I'm married." I held my left hand up, showing my wedding band. "We're hoping to have kids soon. Do you like children Arthur? Do you want a family?" I tried to turn the conversation back to him again.

He ignored my question, looking sullen. It was obvious that he was probing for some kind of weakness, a topic he could bring up to make me uncomfortable.

"What does your husband do?"

"He's also a Doctor. Do you have any career ambitions?"

"What type of Doctor?"

Our strange conversation continued for at least twenty minutes; every time I tried to shift the subject to him, he ignored me, asking more and more questions. It was good that he was talking but it wasn't safe to be revealing so much about myself.

"You said you were bullied?"

"Yes, about my hair. Arthur, do you mind if we talk about you for a little bit?"

"What did the bullies do to you?"

"Why do you ask? Were you bullied at school Arthur?"

"Did they hurt you? Or was it just verbal abuse?"

"Arthur, can we-"

"Did they hit you? Pull your hair? Push you into the dirt?"

"Arthur stop!" I raised my voice just enough that he did stop, looking at me stubbornly. "Please. I'm happy to answer your questions but... I want to hear about you too."

"Huh." He took a drag from his cigarette. "You really want to hear about me?"

"Yes, I- n-ghaaaa!" I shrieked in pain as, without warning, he violently thrust something sharp just below my collarbone. It split the skin clumsily and tore through my flesh about two inches deep, blood beginning to collect at the surface instantly.

_He stabbed me. He actually stabbed me._

Wincing as I Looked down, I could see it was some sort of shiv, sharpened from a plastic utensil, maybe a toothbrush? He was still holding the end of it, a nasty smile on his face.

"Do you still want to hear about me?" He smirked, twisting the makeshift knife 180 degrees as I tugged desperately at his wrist.

"Ng...gaaahh - A-Arthur..." His name came out as a moan and I sucked a breath in. It clearly wasn't meant to be fatal, I knew that much. Not near any major arteries or organs, and not big enough to risk severe blood loss. For whatever reason, he didn't want to kill me. He just wanted to cause me pain. To scare me. Well, if that was the price of getting him to talk to me, wasn't it worth paying it? Wounds healed. If I could make him better, prevent him from hurting anyone again, wouldn't it be worth it? I blinked furiously, desperate not to cry; for some reason I felt like it would just make him want to hurt me more.

"Do you?" He hissed, twisting the shiv again.

I gritted my teeth, trying to get past the pain, but a choked sob escaped me.

_Get it together Mia._

I stopped pulling at his hand and looked him straight in the eyes. I trembled, struggling to keep my resolve and not run away screaming. After a pause I managed to whisper quietly: "Yes."

He yanked his hand back, pulling the implement out of my chest.

I gasped with a mixture of relief and pain, and my hand flew to the wound as I tried hard not to break down.

"W-Why... what was that for?" I mumbled in shock.

He shrugged. "I'm tired of this. I'm done for today."

I stared at him. He wanted to end the session, so he stabbed me. He stabbed me because he was _bored?!_ I sucked in a breath, only just managing to keep my composure. "Fine." I agreed quietly. "We'll continue next session. But Arthur-" I held out my hand. "I'm going to have to take that."

"Afraid I'm gonna kill some guards?" He smirked, twirling the carved plastic around his fingers.

"Yes. Or hurt yourself. Please give it to me." It was a dangerous move. If he didn't like what I was asking, he could easily stab me again with an intent to kill. "Arthur, please."

To my surprise and relief, he handed it to me. "Sure. Enjoy princess. You can take this too, a deal's a deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the panic alarm.

"Thank you." I shivered as my hand touched his briefly. "I'll also need to lock you back in the cuff... so nothing seems suspicious to those guys." I gestured outside.

Arthur grinned his nasty, amused grin and he cooperated, placing his wrist in the cuff. I was glad he was being sensible about it, but also guessed he didn't want to easily give away that he could get out whenever he wanted. He stared up at me creepily as I locked it. I rubbed my neck in discomfort, unable to look him in the eyes again.

"Okay Arthur, I'll see you in a couple of days."

The orderlies were obviously not paid enough; they hadn't once turned to the window enough to see any of what went down. I was somewhat glad; I was sure it would have just made Arthur more angry. Max, one of the orderlies who I'd started to become familiar with, stopped me on the way out.

"Wh-what the fuck happened?!" He spluttered, looking at the blood soaking through the front of my blouse.

"Pen exploded in my pocket." I shrugged, ducking away before he could examine more closely.

I hurried to the closest examination room; I needed medical supplies. Upon finding one I locked the door behind me before bending over with my hands on the desk, breathing heavily.

"Uggh... fuuuckkk!" I hissed, finally able to let it out. "Jesus fuck..." I undid half of the buttons on my blouse, gingerly pulling the fabric away from the wound. I winced in pain as the white cotton pulled at the edges.

_I need to clean this up. _

I rifled in the cupboards, pulling out some gloves, tweezers and a suture kit, dumping them all in front of the mirror on the counter. I leaned forward, inspecting the wound.

_There are definitely shards of plastic in there. Thanks for the clean injury Arthur._

I gripped the tweezers, wishing I could do this with my eyes closed. It was amazing how much more squeamish you could become if the injuries you were treating were your own.

"Ff... fucckk..." I cursed repeatedly as I pulled out a small sliver of blue plastic, dropping it into the sink. Two more pieces followed.

_Do I really have to stitch this up?_

In desperation, I rooted around in the cupboard again and found some local anaesthetic cream. I would've jumped for joy if I hadn't been in so much pain. I surrounded the area carefully with the white paste, and started threading the needle as it activated. I sighed with relief as the feeling in my upper pectoral slowly seeped away, and the throbbing pain stopped. "This better be worth it." I muttered as I sutured the wound. "This is going to hurt like a bitch later."

I stepped back to inspect my work in the mirror. I'd cleaned the blood and dirt off, and it was no longer freely bleeding. I quickly placed some sterile gauze over the area, watching my reflection. I looked at the marks around my neck, the burn on my wrist and the new mark on my chest; my body was quickly becoming a canvas for Arthur to inflict injuries on.

_This really better be worth it._


	4. Chapter 4: Crane

**Chapter 4: Crane**

* * *

Luckily, I had a spare blouse in my office. You never knew when someone was going to barf on you, or throw their food in the canteen the day they served chocolate pudding. I scooted past Helen and quickly switched the spare out with my blood stained garment. It seemed I didn't do as good a job patching myself up as I'd thought however, because as the afternoon went on a small spot of red slowly blossomed out on my clean shirt, and I didn't notice until Helen rudely pointed it out. I scraped together another excuse but I wasn't certain she bought it, so needless to say I was somewhat eager to get home at the end of the day. It was for this reason that I ran headlong into a tall dark-haired man on my way out.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I apologized, picking up his glasses which had fallen to the floor. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

He dusted himself off, sliding the glasses back over his nose. "That's fine. You must be Dr Lawson? I'm Dr Crane."

"Dr Crane?" My eyes widened. "Oh- nice to meet you!" I shook his hand, shivering at the lack of warmth in his skin. "I've heard a lot about you from the other staff. Seems like Arkham is lucky to have you."

"I'm looking forward to working with you." He smiled. I felt like his smile didn't really reach his eyes, but I was probably being unfairly suspicious with Ivy's words still echoing the back of my mind.

_He seems pleasant enough... I wonder what had Ivy so scared?_

I noticed his gaze slide down to my red adornment and I straightened up anxiously. "I need to get home, but I'm looking forward to picking your brain tomorrow Doctor!" I hurried off before the conversation could continue; I was thankful that he didn't stop me.

My husband wasn't yet home, so I was able to stuff the reddened shirt into the laundry without him seeing. I changed the dressing on the wound, wincing as I peeled it off but fairly confident it wasn't going to bleed through again. The _last_ thing I needed was for Ben to find out about this - he would flip his shit, and probably physically prevent me from going into work.

_Of course he will. You were fucking __**stabbed**__. _

I stopped for a moment. Why was _I _okay with this? I should be the one taking issue with this, never wanting to see Arthur again, hell, never even going _near _Arkham again. But... I was getting through to him right? Just a tiny bit. He was talking to me. He used my name. He could've easily killed me if he wanted, but he didn't. There must have been a reason for that. I imagined Ben yelling at me. _"I love you Mia, but god you are so fucking naive sometimes."_

_He's so right._

I sank to the floor, resting my head on my palms. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I let this go? I wanted to help my other patients but not as much as I desperately wanted to help Arthur... there was something that just... _fascinated_ me about him. Sighing, I pulled on a clean shirt and pajama shorts. This gave me a headache to think about. I decided I shouldn't over-analyse it. I should just go to work, do my job.

_And try not to get killed..._

I went to bed early, hoping to just fall asleep so I could stop thinking about my problems for a few hours. I tossed and turned though; I still hadn't got a wink of sleep when Ben slid into bed next to me.

"Hey babe." He kissed my neck. "Sorry I'm home late."

"No it's fine, I was early."

I felt his arm slide around my waist just before his body pressed against me. He slipped his hand under the fabric of my nightshirt and touched the bare skin, slowly moving his fingertips higher.

"No- wait!" I grabbed his wrist, stopping him just below my solar plexus. Sex was out of the question: I didn't want him to see or feel my bandages. "I mean... uh..." I rolled over to face him. "I'm really exhausted babe, I don't think I have the stamina tonight."

"C'mon, I'll do all the work." He kissed me again and tried to sneak a hand under the waistband of my shorts.

"No really... I'm sorry babe, I don't feel good." I rolled over again, tucking the blankets around me so we weren't touching.

"...Ok... night."

I could detect the rejection in his tone and felt terrible. I'd have to make it up to him when I was healed. I cringed as I realized this job was making me lie to my own husband - was it really worth that much?

* * *

I brought Helen her coffee as usual the next morning; it was helpful to stay in her good books since she'd been around a long time. She knew quite a bit about what went on around Arkham.

"Morning Helen!" I handed her the latte.

"Thanks doll!" Helen took the paper cup from me, leaving a ring of red lipstick around the rim as she took a sip.

"So I met Dr. Crane last night, he's finally back from vacation?" I said casually.

"He is a dish isn't he?" She winked and wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Want me to set up a one on one meeting for you two?"

"Helen... I'm married..." I'd definitely told her this.

"Doesn't mean you can't window-shop honey." She insisted. "That man is _fiiine_."

"Do you know much about him? How long has he been in Arkham?" I decided to capitalize on her interest in him and see if I could find out anything helpful.

"Oh he's been around longer than any other doctor or nurse here, longer than me. Still only 4 years, but you know we don't have a very good retention here. He's pretty private though, believe me I've tried to get up on that." She smirked. "He's usually pretty busy too, doesn't have much time for chit-chat. _Super_ charming nonetheless."

"Do the patients like him?"

"How should I know?" She shrugged. "He must be doing something right if he's still here I guess? He even stayed after that one Doctor got killed... every other member of staff turned over after that. Can't say I blame them."

"A Doctor got killed?" I stared at her in disbelief. "What happened?"

"You didn't hear about that? It's not a well-kept secret. It was one of your patients too."

"W-Who?" I knew who she was going to say before her mouth even started moving.

"Arthur Fleck."

* * *

"How are you Noah?" I sat down for my first appointment that morning. "How have things been since we spoke last week? Did you have a good weekend? How have you been spending your time?"

"Good... well, not bad I guess. People have stopped bothering me now so it's a bit easier to relax in the common area. I've just been doing some doodles." He handed me a bundle of scrappy papers.

"Oh wow- did you draw these Noah? They're amazing!" Even using the crude tools he'd managed to salvage it was clear he was gifted; his drawings were of the other patients, nurses, or just things he'd apparently seen around the hospital. "Let me see if I can get you some proper art materials - I don't see why they'd say not to some pencils and maybe something for color?"

Noah's eyes lit up. "T-That would be amazing! If you could... I... thank you Dr. Lawson." He smiled.

I smiled. "No problem."

Things were definitely going well with Noah. But that was just it; things were going _too_ well. Noah didn't seem ill at all. I really couldn't see why he'd been admitted to Arkham in the first place; he was just a young man who made a couple of bad choices.

"Noah, do you remember much about your trial?" I asked. "Your file says you initially pled guilty and only went with an insanity plea halfway through?"

"Y-yes..."

"Did you decide to do that? Or was it under advice of your lawyer?"

"Um... Maroni said-" His eyes widened. "O-Oh shit I-I... please don't repeat that name!" He grabbed my hands suddenly, making me flinch after all my time with Arthur - but it was just in a begging motion. "I-I- They'll kill me if they find out I s-said that. They'll kill my whole family!" He looked like he was about to cry.

"I won't. Noah, it's fine, look." I took the tape recorder on the desk and rewound it by two minutes before hitting record again. "I'm taping over it now. It won't be recorded. As far as I'm concerned you didn't say anything."

"Thank you..." He trembled.

_Maroni... where have I heard that name before? _

I made a mental note to follow up on it - there was something fishy here.

* * *

My brain played Helen's words over and over again. Arthur had killed one of his psychiatrists. _Arthur had killed one of his psychiatrists! _I didn't know if it was just negligence or an attempt at a cover-up but there was nothing about it in his file. Maybe it wasn't even true? It was a little too hopeful of me to think that. I didn't know how to process the information; perhaps the fear was too overwhelming, or I knew the only logical conclusion would be to terminate our relationship. I didn't know what to do, so I did what any responsible professional would do; I pretended the conversation with Helen had never happened.

I had two more sessions with Arthur that week, and they went similarly to the last: he would take my panic alarm, I'd undo his cuff, and every time he made a sudden move I'd flinch, expecting him to drive a sharpened piece of plastic into my chest again. At this point though, I felt like I deserved anything that happened - I was being incredibly irresponsible. I was really asking for it. But I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was _getting somewhere. _I at least managed to end the week with no new injuries, potentially because I didn't push him too far into talking about himself again. I definitely tried, but whenever I would try to steer the questions back to him he would give short answers or just turn it back on me again. So we'd been talking a lot about _my_ life. I believed in being open with my patients but this was starting to reach a dangerous amount of information; he knew enough about me to track me down with no problem at all, should he ever need to. I didn't stop though; I was scared that if I stopped talking, I would undo the progress I had made and have to start all over again. One of these days I was _sure_ he was going to give me something more.

That day finally came the following Monday.

"You were a fan of Murray Franklin's show before you were a guest on it, weren't you Arthur?" I was asking him a direct question for the umpteenth time, fully expecting him to not answer as usual.

"Yes." A short answer. Better than nothing.

"You watched it every week?" I probed.

"With my Mother."

"Can you tell me a bit about what drove you to kill him? This was the first time you assumed the identity of 'Joker' wasn't it? When you asked to be introduced that way?" I was pretty sure I was pushing my luck.

Arthur took a drag from his cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the floor with disinterest. "Why don't you tell me why you think I did it? Since you seem to know so much about me princess." He didn't look particularly amused, so I wondered if I was going to be subject to him trying to end the session early again. I shifted in my seat nervously, but decided to do exactly as he suggested.

"Well... you said to Murray that... he's awful. That he just brought you on the show to make fun of you... which was true. To be honest I was glad you called him out on it... exploiting someone with a mental illness for cheap laughs, it's disgusting. And he does it all the time... I hated his show."

"Heh. So you think he deserved to die too?"

"No!" I grew flustered at Arthur's assumption, not wanting him to misunderstand. "No Arthur, definitely not. There's a _huge_ jump between thinking that someone is a bad person and_ shooting them in the head_. Frankly Arthur, what you did was just as awful."

He cocked his head to the side, looking amused. "I'm awful?"

I paused, realizing the implications of what I said. This was dangerous territory. "Well... your actions were definitely awful. But that's what I'm trying to understand - why your mind made that leap. I don't think it's because you're awful."

"Why not? Maybe I just did it because I was bored. Or because I wanted the attention."

"I don't believe that..." I looked down shyly; his eyes had not left mine for the last five minutes. "What was it you said before you shot him..." I searched my memory, though it wasn't too difficult; I'd watched that video repeatedly. "'What do you get when you cross a... mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash?'" I looked at him. "... is that how you feel Arthur? You feel abandoned? Or did back then?"

"I always enjoy it when someone quotes me." He grinned nastily but was also looking at me with some amount of intrigue. "I'm somewhat surprised you actually listened to what I said; most people can't look past the guy getting shot in the head." He raised his eyebrows and shrugged comically, as if that was something weird to get hung up on.

"Who do you think abandoned you?" I pressed.

He snorted derisively. "Who abandoned me? Who _didn't _abandon me_? _Everyone did. _Society _did. But you know what? I'm _glad _they did; otherwise I wouldn't have realized my true potential, that I'm destined for much bigger things than all of them. Because of the way I was treated I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and viewing my life as a tragedy."

"How do you view your life now?"

"It's a fucking comedy. I fucking love my life."

It was the most he'd ever opened up to me and I blinked, a little taken aback. I scribbled it down so I wouldn't forget before my brain finished processing it (I'd realized Arthur never gave real answers in front of the tape recorder). There was so much to unpick here.

"But... surely you don't love being in here?

He looked at the ceiling impatiently. "I already told you - I'm only in here because I haven't decided to leave yet."

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. It was incredible the level of delusions he had that he was capable of escaping one of the most secure prisons in the country. And he justified the fact that he hadn't managed it with 'I didn't feel like it.'

"Mia, can I ask you something?" I looked up at him as he spoke, his expression suggestion something gravely serious. His declaration of my name rang in my ears; it sounded so significant coming from him.

"What is it Arthur?"

He leaned across the table towards me, stowing his cigarette temporarily at the corner of his mouth. I mirrored him, positive he was going to whisper some confession in my ear.

His hands whipped out, one closing around my neck and the other slithering its way into the roots of my hair. He closed his fist near my scalp, pulling me close to him.

"What are you expecting to get out of this?" He asked me, blowing tobacco-tainted air across my face.

I started to wonder if it was my fear that gave him the enjoyment from these types of acts; perhaps it gave him a feeling of control over me? A weakness? It was for this reason that I decided to try to appear unfazed as much as possible; I gritted my teeth but made no noise, just looking back into his eyes. It was a difficult feat however, as his hand was too tight for me to breathe comfortably and his nails were painfully digging into the side of my neck.

"What are you trying to do?" He asked again.

I tried not to cough, and when I spoke I felt my windpipe move against his palm. "I want to help."

He stared at me, chewing his lip and seemingly attempting to decipher my motive. He obviously didn't believe that I just wanted to make him better - it was understandable, considering the lack of help he'd had up until this point.

"You're really good at that huh?"

"At what?"

"Pretending that you care. Better than any other doctor I've met."

"Pretending?" I was almost angry. After everything he'd put me through he thought I was pretending? "Why do you think I came back here after you burned me, choked me, _stabbed_ me and threatened to kill me? For _fun?_ To _pretend?"_

Arthur just grinned, and I realized he enjoyed getting this rise out of me. I regained my composure, which involved staring at the floor so I didn't have to look at his cruel, taunting eyes. "I do care." I said eventually, swallowing uncomfortably.

After a long pause, Arthur opened his mouth to say something but it was at that moment the door burst open, the orderlies having for once done their job and checked in on the patient.

"HEY! Sit the fuck down!" Max yelled, brandishing his baton high above his head. "How the fuck did you get out of those cuffs again?" They yanked Arthur's hand off my neck, throwing him against the wall.

"Hey- wait!" I was taken aback by how aggressively they were handling him; he wasn't a huge threat against two hulking men with weapons.

"GET DOWN!" They both hit him with their batons simultaneously, screaming obscenities. "Fucking clown freak!"

"H-Hey... wait!" It was fair of them to restrain the Joker considering he'd assaulted me, but Arthur was currently on the floor after a swift smack to the back of his legs, and the orderlies had proceeded to kick him repeatedly.

"Stop, stop! What are you doing?!" I inserted myself between them and my patient in an attempt to get them to back off. "Don't- I understand you need to get his cuffs back on but there's no need to harm him unnecessarily!"

One of them swatted me away impatiently, pulling my arm to place me behind them. "Let us do our job love." He muttered, clearly wanting to get back to the beat down.

"No, wait! That's enough!"

A well placed hit split Aurthur's lip open, spilling a small pool of blood onto the white floor around his face. I was horrified by the inhumanity of it.

But of course Arthur was just laughing. He laughed when they kicked him in the stomach. He laughed into the pool of his own blood. He laughed as they forced handcuffs onto him.

"Seriously, that's enough!" I tried again to pull them away but I was like a fly; annoying but not actually troublesome to them whatsoever.

They hoisted Arthur up after forcefully cuffing his hands behind his back; blood was dripping from his nose and lips down to the end of his chin, occasionally splashing onto his white shirt. He smirked bloodily at me as they dragged him to the door.

"Until next time Princess."


	5. Chapter 5: Revenge

**Chapter 5: Revenge**

* * *

I stood in the bare white room, absolutely speechless.

_Just when I was starting to make some progress with him! _

I was livid. How was I supposed to help my patients with this kind of treatment going on? I couldn't really fault the orderlies for interrupting us, as much as it annoyed me - they were just trying to protect me after all. But I was out of Arthur's grasp for the majority of the time they were beating him up - I couldn't help feeling like they just _enjoyed_ assaulting him. That's why nobody ever made progress with any patients at Arkham. Why would they expect Arthur - or anyone - to cooperate or care about anything with that kind of abuse? I ranted about it to Ben that night but I could tell he wasn't as sympathetic as I wanted him to be. I understood that these people had done horrific things but they still deserved basic human rights.

Although my mind was still on Arthur, my first priority the next day was to dig into Noah's case. I pulled a manila folder out of one of my filing cabinets, dropping it onto the desk. What I wanted was the first page of Noah's file - his diagnosis. I wanted to see who'd approved his insanity plea and made the initial final call; either Noah had made unprecedented strides to recovery or the diagnosis was wrong. I was fairly confident it was the latter. It was there that I saw it, printed in neat block letters, below the multiple listed mental illnesses - the name "_Dr. Jonathan Crane_". Complete with his signature.

_Dr. Crane diagnosed him? _

This was good and bad. Bad, because Crane had a reputation for being a fantastic doctor; it seemed unlikely he would make such a big mistake declaring someone as mentally ill. Maybe _I _was mistaken? I didn't think so, but my confidence wavered. The good thing was, Dr. Crane worked right there, in the hospital with me. I could ask him about it.

I managed to catch him at lunch.

Crane never joined any of the other staff for lunch; if he wasn't between appointments he would be eating absent-mindedly at his desk, carefully studying files through his rectangular glasses.

"Dr. Crane?" His door was open, but I still felt like I was disturbing him when I tentatively knocked. "Could I take a minute of your time?"

He looked up at me, curiously, seemingly unsure how to react. I wondered if anyone had ever interrupted his lunch before.

"Certainly." He smiled in his way that I still found unconvincing, and gestured to the extra chair in his office. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to ask you a little bit about one of my patients - Noah Burns." I had the file with me and I pulled it out, turning to the first page. "It seems you were the person who originally diagnosed him during his trial."

Dr. Crane frowned, not taking the file when I attempted to hand it to him. "I have a lot of patients Dr. Lawson. I probably won't be able to remember the details."

"This was a recent one, about two months ago?"

I was still holding the file in front of his nose and he could see I wasn't going to relent. With a sigh he took it from me and quickly scanned the page.

"Yes, I vaguely remember this young man. He was definitely troubled."

"Well, the thing is... I've been treating him for a few weeks and he really seems... fine to me?" I wasn't sure how to phrase it without making it sound like I was criticizing his ability to do his job. "I wonder if - uh - maybe you're getting him mixed up with somebody else? Because I'm not sure he should be here..."

Crane closed the file somewhat aggressively. "I can assure you I did not mix him up. When I assessed him he showed clear signs of major bipolar disorder as well as having some very severe hallucinations. He belongs in here."

"But I think-"

"I'm sorry Dr. Lawson, but I have a lot of work to get through today. I don't think there's any more I can say that will help you." He'd adopted a polite demeanor again and smiled, but his eyes burned with irritation. It was for this reason that I decided not to push it; his aura made me nervous.

"O-ok, well, if you think of any details that might be useful, let me know. Thank you for your time."

He stared me down until I left the office.

Although I hadn't gotten any helpful information out of Dr. Crane, one thing was for certain: I was now 100% sure there was something he wasn't telling me. My guess was that I was right that Noah had been given the wrong diagnosis. Unfortunately though, I had no proof and no motive. I'd have to do some more digging.

* * *

That Saturday, one of the orderlies I'd become friendly with - Max - invited me out for drinks with some of the others at a bar in Gotham downtown. Normally, I probably would've turned them down - bars weren't really my scene unless I was with some close female friends and it was a special occasion. However, Ben was on a work trip that weekend, and I also really wanted to get to know some of my co-workers better. Partly to build relationships, but there was also a bit of me that hoped someone could dish some dirt on Jonathan Crane. Helen and a couple of other nurses were there as well as two of the other orderlies, Tyler and Skylar. People often teased them for their rhyming names and they pretended to be pissed, but I secretely thought they liked the attention. I met the group at 9PM at a bar I'd never been to before; it was a bit divey but had really great cheap cocktails. I'd wasn't much of a drinker but I dutifully ordered one with everyone else, sipping it very slowly throughout the night. By the time I'd finished my first, everyone else was four or five drinks in.

Unfortunately, I didn't get much intel on Dr Crane or anything he was up to, but it was a good chance to get to know some of the others I worked with. The nurses were all minimum wage, and I could tell they resented me somewhat for my significantly better salary; they made more than one comment about how I should pick up the tab for the entire night, being the only Doctor there. Usually I wouldn't fault them for it - nurses were definitely underpaid in general - but the number of times I'd seen Helen doing her nails at her desk made me just a little less inclined to say she should be compensated better. Then again, how could I blame her for not giving a shit? Nobody at Arkham gave a shit.

I chatted to Ty and Sky too, along with Max. Max was definitely the easiest to talk to; he seemed to hate silence so constantly filled in gaps in the conversation without me having to put too much effort in. He also didn't seem to be threatened by the fact that I made more money than him. I chatted with him most of the night, that is, until he made a pass at me.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" He murmured to me over the crowd. He was close enough that I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Sure."

"Wanna make out?"

"I- Sorry, what?" I'd definitely misheard.

"Me, you, tonsil tennis?"

I choked on my drink. "Wh- are you serious?" Was this some kind of initiation joke? "No thank you." I said nervously, not sure how to handle the situation. Max had always been somewhat flirty when he spoke to me but I hadn't thought much of it; I just assumed he spoke to everyone that way. Plus I'd definitely had bigger problems on my mind. Maybe he asked all the new employees to make out with him too? Either way I needed to nip this in the bud. I thought I'd mentioned my husband casually enough times for this not to be an issue but apparently not.

"C'mon babe, just a quick peck. Right here." He touched his lips.

"Wait- woah!" I dodged to the side as he leaned in to kiss me. If this was a joke, it was going too far. "Max - I'm flattered but I'm married."

"Doesn't really bother me love." He grinned drunkenly. "C'mon, just one kiss."

"Hey Tyler, Max was just saying how he could kick your ass at foosball." I pulled one of the others into the conversation as a deflection, worried that I'd only be able to dodge out of the way a limited number of times.

"You what?!" Tyler took the bait, squaring off jokingly against his friend. "Better put your money where your mouth is mate."

I took the opportunity to slip away, passing Helen and the other nurses on my way out. "I think I'm going to head home." I said, pulling my coat around me. It probably wasn't the best idea to walk home alone at such an hour, but we were only 15 minutes from my place. Plus, I felt like I needed some fresh air. I decided I would leave this detail out when I told my husband about the weekend though; he already had enough reasons to think I was reckless and irresponsible.

* * *

The following Monday I was scheduled to meet Arthur first thing.

"Morning Max, Tyler." I nodded briefly to the two orderlies outside Arthur's room without making eye contact. I was a bit embarrassed about what had unfolded over the weekend and didn't want a repeat of it.

To my dismay, Max tried very hard to engage me in conversation, going as far as to step in front of the door. "Heey Little Miss Mia."

"Oh... hi Max."

"How was the rest of your weekend? We were all bummed that you left so early."

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that... I've haven't been out past midnight in a while."

"You going to join us again this weekend?" He put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off, trying to make it look subtle by pretending I was just scratching my nose.

"Ah... probably not, I'm getting dinner with my husband." I hoped he would particularly pay attention to that last word, and he did indeed look irritated for a second, but quickly shook it off and changed the subject.

"This must be your least favorite appointment right? Talking to that nut head." He gestured through the window to Arthur, who was sitting casually in his chair, staring across the room as he smoked. You let me know if that clown tries anything alright sweetheart?" Max was unnervingly close to me.

"Er... sure... his name is Arthur by the way." I was irritated at the way they called him "that clown", especially after the way they'd treated him last time. "Anyway, excuse me - I don't want to be late for my appointment!"

"What does a couple of minutes matter for that freak? C'mon stay and chat a bit."

"No really," I scooted past him, laughing uncomfortably. "I have lots to cover. Let's, er... get lunch sometime." _Or not. _I grabbed the door handle and to my relief he didn't stop me, but I definitely felt his hand on my ass as he helped usher me inside.

"Lunch it is!"

I patted down my hair and shirt before sitting down, worried that I looked as disheveled as I felt.

"Hello Arthur..." I felt uncomfortable for some reason; even though it wasn't my fault that he'd been manhandled so badly, I still felt partially responsible. Also either way, I was sure Arthur wouldn't be hesitant to take it out on me if he felt like it.

"Good morning."

I unlocked his cuff like normal - despite what happened previously I thought it would only do more harm to deviate from this routine we'd established. I was careful to make sure the orderlies outside weren't watching.

Arthur seemed fairly cheerful, puffing on his cigarette without any obvious concerns. However, I couldn't ignore the black eye that showed through his white face paint and his crudely bandaged nose.

"I'm sorry about what happened last time." I sat down. "Are you alright?"

Arthur laughed, his involuntary-sounding guffaws bouncing off the close walls. "_You're_ sorry? That's funny. Why are you sorry?"

"Well..." I rubbed my arm. "Those guys were just trying to protect me, but they went a bit too far. I tried to stop them."

"I saw." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Well, when you put it that way I guess it is all your fault." He lunged forward suddenly and I jumped back in fright, nearly toppling off my chair. I quickly realized he was just joking around when I saw him choking on his own laughter again. "God, that never gets old." He rasped.

"Very funny Arthur." I tried to pretend it _was_ somewhat amusing instead of just terrifying but didn't really manage it. I decided just to plow on with the session. "So... today I was thinking maybe we could talk a bit about your co-worker, Randall?" My voice was still questioning. Everything I said had to be so tentative, I couldn't ever predict how he was going to react.

Arthur chuckled and paused. "Yeah why not?"

I couldn't help smiling, pleased that he agreed so easily. I quickly hid my mouth by holding up the papers I'd brought with me. "So I was looking at the police report and there's a statement from someone named Gary Gill - he was apparently present at the time of the murder?"

"Heh. Yeah I guess he saw the whole thing."

"But he says you let him go."

"I did."

"I also read that you claim Randall gave you the gun, but he said to the police he knew nothing about it?"

"He lied."

"Correct me if I'm wrong Arthur, this is just a theory... but... I get the impression that your initial murders were... revenge driven? The people you killed, they wronged you somehow - and death was their punishment?"

Arthur pursed his lips and smirked, but said nothing.

"Those guys on the subway, you told me last time that they assaulted you. Randall basically handed you over to the police. Murray made fun of you. Your mother..." I thought back to the news articles of the abuse Arthur had endured. "She failed you."

"Then you can see. They deserved to die."

Despite knowing what he was capable of, his callousness was still shocking. "I won't deny that what they did was wrong Arthur, but I don't think your reaction was appropriate either."

"You're saying you wouldn't want to get revenge on that ape out there who was putting his hands all over you?"

I blushed. He'd seen that?

"I-I- well... I won't deny that it made me uncomfortable but... I can make a formal complaint, and-"

Arthur snorted. "Complaint? You think they're going to give a shit? You think the _system_ is going to help you?"

"Well... I can hope-"

"You know what the system needs princess?" He leaned forward. "A little chaos."

_Chaos?_

"Well that's the difference between you and me." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling out of my depth. "Just because somebody wrongs me, doesn't mean I wish death or violence on them. We don't have the right to be judge, jury and executioner."

Arthur just shrugged in a way that he suggested he disagreed, and took another drag of his cancer stick.

"Another thing I noticed though..." I wondered how he felt about me hypothesizing about his life; was I being annoying? "After Murray... the people you killed... some cops, some civilians, your..." I trembled. "... your psychiatrist. I can't see anything they did to you that would warrant your revenge. Did they wrong you in some way too?"

"No." Arthur pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and grinned. "Does that screw your theory?"

"I-"

He cut me off again.** "**You know what's interesting about you?" He sat forward in his seat, looking up at me through a frown. "You don't seem to have been through any real suffering. So why do you want to help? How could you possibly understand what your patients are going through?"

I was a little taken aback by his observation. It was judgmental, for sure; but not entirely untrue. "I...That's very astute Arthur. I understand why you would think that, and maybe you're right to some extent. I _don't _know what real suffering is like. I've had a very privileged life. But I think that's what makes me even more determined to help - I've seen what people can go through and I just can't imagine how awful they must feel. In my privileged position I must be able to do something about it right? I want to make good use of my life." I paused, thinking. I wanted to make sure I gave him an honest answer. "Back in Brentwood I was helping people to a certain extent and I was grateful for what I could do - but I couldn't help feeling I could do more. I didn't feel like I was fulfilling my potential to help."

"Hm." He considered me for a moment. "I think it's something more than that though." His lips curled into a smile, stretching the red paint. "You're unfulfilled in other ways too, aren't you? You're bored. You're looking for a rush, a thrill. Some danger."

"No, that's not-" I protested, but he talked over me.

"It's not just your job is it? It's your entire _life_ that you find dull. Is that why you keep coming here despite what I do to you Mia? Is talking to me how you get your _kicks_? I see the spark in your eyes when you walk in here."

I blushed - not because I thought he was right, but because of the suggestive way he said it. How was he so good at pushing my buttons? It was supposed to be my job to be immune to this sort of thing.

"That's enough Arthur." I mumbled, with less authority than I was aiming for. "As I said, I keep coming here because I care about my patients and I want to help. And you're right, Arthur; I _don't_ know what it's like. That's why I want you to tell me."

I hoped I'd regained my composure but I could tell he knew he got to me.

I was relieved when I checked my watch and saw we were coming up to the end of the hour; I didn't feel like I was currently in the right place mentally to keep up this conversation.

"Arthur, next time I want to try something a little different. I want you to come up with our topic for the session." He stared up at me, smirking, as I completed the ritual of locking him into the cuff again. "So have a think about some things you might want to talk about, okay?"

He blew out a mouthful of smoke, contemplating his answer. "Sure." He replied eventually, much to my surprise. "See you then."


	6. Chapter 6: Progress

Chapter 6: Progress

—-

I managed to avoid Max, for the most part. Since he had to spend a lot of his time stationed outside patient rooms, or transporting unruly patients to other parts of the hospital, he was pretty limited with where he could go during work hours. It was fairly easy to make sure I stayed away from whatever part of the hospital he was in. This wasn't possible when I had an appointment with Arthur however; Max and Tyler were almost always the ones stationed outside - we didn't have enough staff to rotate shifts often. This meant that three times a week, Max would take the opportunity to harass me on the way into the room. I supposed it could be worse; considering the reputation of Arkham I'd have thought I'd be enduring much worse harassment than this.

That was just it though; normally I'd be taking regular abuse in some form - physical or mental, depending on what he was in the mood for - from Arthur, but the past couple of weeks he'd been so... docile. I'd arrive, uncuff him, we'd chat and he'd actually answer my questions, I'd cuff him again and be on my way. No jump scares, no burns, no inappropriate comments. He'd even done what I'd asked and come up with topics to talk about for a few sessions: I'd learnt more about his relationship with his mother, the jobs he'd had throughout his life, some experiences he remembered from school. Things seemed to be going really well. It got to my head quickly; if I could actually make progress with the most difficult patient in the whole hospital, anything else was a cinch right?

"Really Ben, I think... I think he could get better!" I gushed to my husband over dinner that night. Or maybe it was every night that week. I couldn't seem to stop talking about it. "He still has a long way to go, but compared to how he was when I first met him..."

"That's great honey." If Ben was tired of my repetetive stories, he didn't show it. "I'm so proud of you."

I couldn't give him specifics of course, due to patient confidentiality; he had no idea it was _the_ Joker - the guy who killed Murray Franklin and who started the clown face riots. However, I think he got the idea how difficult a patient he was from my barrage of complaints over the past month or so; he was very gracious about letting me take out my frustrations on him.

-—

Lillian was also opening up to me a lot more; she was stubborn and a little uncooperative, but I could tell deep down she wanted to get better. I couldn't say the same for her alter ego Ivy however. I'd met Ivy for the first time that previous week, and of course at first I hadn't been aware I was talking to her, but it quickly became apparent. Schizophrenia is complicated, there's never any telling how many different personalities a person will have, or how different they will be. Ivy was _drastically_ different. Even though she had the exact same appearance, the way she carried herself even seemed to make her look like a different person. Ivy was much louder and more confident than her counterpart, and had no problem telling me to shut up whenever I spoke. She declared that I was an idiot, and unqualified. She refused to answer my questions, instead just hurling profanities. She demanded that I get her out of there or she would kill me. Having dealt with Arthur for what seemed like such a long time, I wasn't particularly fazed by her threats, but I kept my hand near my panic alarm just in case. It became evident that she was just being dramatic.

Although it was interesting to see her alternate personality, it quickly ceased to be an adavantage. Ivy was just difficult and I didn't get much out of her except insults and protestations. It was easier to get answers out of Lilian.

—

I also found an opportunity to do some more digging on Dr. Crane when poking around Arkham's new electronic archive. Every file on every patient that had ever been at Arkham had been digitized and was now completely formatted and searchable. Of course, Brentwood had been all-digital since before I'd even started there - Arkham was pretty behind - but the two places had vastly different budgets. The new system made it a lot easier for me to do some very targeted searches on Dr. Crane.

First, I searched for all of Crane's current patients. They were all criminals, but there wasn't any other kind of connection I could find between them. Next, I tried all his past and current patients. Nothing of note. I finally tried searching all the patients that Dr. Crane had diagnosed - which included people who left Arkham. That was when I saw the name Salvatore Maroni. My heart nearly jumped into my throat. Maroni - that was the name Noah had blurted out. Excitedly, I pulled up his full file, but to my dismay, it was completely and utterly empty. How was that possible? Every patient had at least a diagnosis, not nothing. There was something suspicious about this and I would've bet my job it had something to do with Crane himself.

Although I didn't have much of a lead, and no proof of anything, I'd made some progress. I now knew Maroni's full name. I could use that. But I had a lot more digging to do.

—

Maroni's name was one my mind as I ascended the elevator to Arthur's cell. I knew that name from somewhere, I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Little Miss Mia."

"Hi Max." I replied wearily, resigned to whatever torrent of inappropriate language he was going to use.

"You don't have to sound so irritated you know."

I sighed. Just my luck. I'd caught him in one of his moods; meaning I'd have to be a little more patient with him if I wanted to get to my appointment. "Sorry." I faked a smile. "It's not you, I'm just having a long day." My Wednesday appointment with Arthur was always the last of the day (I preferred to keep things consistent for everyone) which meant Tyler had already gone home. Max always seemed to be more touchy when it was just him hanging around outside Arthur's room. "Anyway, I'd better get to it!" I said, looking at the door behind him pointedly.

He didn't move.

"We still haven't had a chance to grab lunch."

"Oh... you're right... maybe sometime next week?"

He snorted. "That's what you say every time. What is it you find so repellent about me huh?"

"... Max, I don't find you repellant..." God, this was just like dealing with an overgrown teenager. "I just have a lot of patients to see, you know how understaffed Arkham is."

"You can skip one session with that fucking clown. You think one hour is going to make the difference between him being cured or not?"

"Well-"

Max grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the corridor. "I know a backdoor we can sneak out of, avoid the lobby. Let's go grab a drink eh?"

"Max, no! I have an appointment-" I struggled to break his grip but he was an orderly for a reason; he had the strength to restrain some of the city's most dangerous and insane criminals.

"Come on baby, just give me one chance."

"No thank you Max, please let me go-"

"You'll be thanking me when this night is over."

"Max, just give it up!" I hissed in frustration. "I'm taken. And even if I wasn't I wouldn't be interested in you anyway!"

He stopped walking, but still held on to me. "Heh. You're telling me you don't wear those tight ass skirts because you want someone to notice? Because I definitely noticed."

"Max, how many times?!" I was breathing heavily from the scuffle. "I'm married."

"I won't tell if you don't. C'mon, I see you looking at me."

"You don't see anything! I've never looked at you that way and I never will!"

Max stared at me for a second with a look of mild annoyance on his face, before putting a hand behind my head and pulling my face towards his. "Just one kiss, then you tell me you're not interested."

"Max- stop it- no!" I pushed hard against his chest. "Max get off me!"

In our scuffle, his outstretching hand that was reaching to grab my arm again, missed and hit my square on the side of the face. Hard. I stumbled back a few steps from the force, holding my cheek in shock.

He opened his mouth as if to say something - maybe it was an apology, maybe it was to tell me I had it coming - either way I never found out because I took the opportunity to dash for the door and dart inside, engaging the deadbolt behind me.

It occurred to me how bizarre it was that I felt safer locked in a room with the Joker.

In my haste to get inside I dropped my files, sending a cascade of paper across the room. I bent down to gather them up, mumbling an apology to Arthur. The paper floated as far as his chair and to my complete surprise, despite being restrained, he leaned down as far as he could to help me retrieve them.

"O-Oh- thank you Arthur!" I stammered, a little taken aback. I wondered if my cheek was red. I wondered if he'd heard anything. Without a doubt he'd noticed me careen into the room and slam the lock behind me.

"Mia?" I looked at him apprehensively at the sound of my name. I didn't want to talk about what had just happened. "What are these?" He asked, holding up one of the papers he'd recovered.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh!" I said brightly. "That's all artwork done by one of the other patients. His name is Noah." He was holding one of Noah's more recent pieces, that he'd done with the graphite pencils I managed to authorize for him. He'd used them to draw a couple of pieces for me as a gift, that he'd given to me that day. "Do you like them? Do you like to draw Arthur?"

He didn't answer, but placed the pages neatly on the desk before taking a drag from his cigarette.

I wondered if my luck had run out and he was going to go back to silence again, but that was pretty much the only thing he didn't respond to for the rest of the session.

"Arthur," I was less afraid of bringing up new topics with him now, he'd become a lot more predictable with his responses, but I still didn't have the guts to bring it up until the end of the session. This was good news though - I couldn't imagine him having a bad reaction to it. "I've been really impressed with your progress recently; you've been very cooperative and we've had a lot of interesting discussions. I've been thinking, if things continue to go well..." I took a deep breath. "I'd like to try and get you moved to the lower security area of the hospital."

Arthur's red painted eyebrows shot up his forehead. He hadn't been expecting me to say that. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then took another puff of his cigarette, seemingly unsure what to say.

"What do you think?" I probed. "Would you like that? You'd be able to use the facilities that the other patients do, more frequent showers, generally better treatment. After seeing the way they handle things up here... I don't think it's productive."

He cocked his head, considering me.

"Since you'll be around the other patients and staff a lot more though, it's important that we communicate and work on this together. I need to make sure you're not going to be a danger to yourself or anyone else. What do you think? Will you keep trying hard to get better and be on your best behavior so we can make this happen?"

"Yes m'aam." He replied finally, sitting forward in his seat. "You don't need to worry about me being a danger; I've realized how unproductive my violent outbursts were. You showed me that. Thank you. I'll be on my best behavior. You won't regret this. Also Mia..." I flinched as he reached forwards but to my surprise, he just clasped his hands around mine. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

My heart swelled, and I blushed. "You're welcome Arthur." I said quietly.

If I hadn't made the mistake of being so emotionally attached to my patients, if I wasn't so desperate to feel like I was making a difference, I would've noticed the slight smirk on Arthur's face, or the way his lips pursed slightly when he was telling a lie. But I didn't.


	7. Chapter 7: Noah

**Chapter 7: Noah**

* * *

It was shockingly easy to get approval for Arthur to be moved to the lower security wing. Again more evidence that nobody gave a shit at Arkham. I was expecting to have to write a detailed report, get approval of other Doctors, etc. - in other words go through a potentially year long process. But I asked, and they agreed. Apparently my word was enough to place a serial murderer half way to exoneration. Shouldn't the police have some say in this at least? Despite how little effort it seemed was needed, Arthur been trying extremely hard the past weeks to convince me he was ready: he'd stopped wearing his makeup, and even started calling me Dr. Lawson. For this reason I had little doubt it was the right thing to do. This man didn't deserve to be beaten senseless on the daily; look at the progress he could show if you just showed him some semblance of decency. I was also enjoying our sessions greatly; Arthur could be really engaging and pleasant to talk to when he wanted to. It had almost been like I was talking to an entirely different patient the past couple of weeks

"Does he make you uncomfortable Dr Lawson?" Arthur asked out of the blue, in our last high-security session.

"What? Who?"

He pointed surreptitiously at the window and I realized he was pointing at Max. Max was still standing guard outside Arthur's room; nothing had changed since he'd assaulted me that day. I'd made a formal complaint, of course, but we didn't have an HR department and nobody else cared even nearly enough to do something about it. So I'd had to deal, enduring Max's jeers and nasty comments as I went to my appointments. He'd given up on flirting and just started outright insulting me - but at least he kept his hands to himself. It was a good move on his part; I'd been sneaking in a small canister of pepper spray, should he try anything of the sort again. Either way, I was glad to be moving to the lower security rooms so I didn't have to deal with him anymore.

I considered Arthur's question for a second. What was the point in lying? He'd seen everything that happened through the window, and he was clearly pretty observant. "Yes." I said eventually, not able to look Arthur in the eyes. "He does."

After a beat Arthur opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off before he could - I wasn't looking for his sympathy and frankly I was embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"It's fine, I made a formal complaint. Besides, I'm happy to say they're going to be moving you down to low security this afternoon."

"Really?" It was the first time I'd seen Arthur pause mid-drag; his hand dropped to his side, cigarette forgotten.

"Yes. I'm really proud of you and the progress you're making Arthur." I smiled.

He grinned, before - very suddenly - lifting me off my chair into a tight embrace. "Thank you." He spoke right into my ear.

Luckily he couldn't see, but I was blushing furiously. I wasn't sure why his actions had such an effect on me; it wasn't the first time I'd hugged a patient. Perhaps it's because he was truly the last person I saw this happening with, or maybe it was the way his wiry limbs seemed to wrap around me so tightly and completely, like vines growing up a terrace. He smelled heavily of tobacco, but also the freshly laundered scent of his standard-issue patient scrubs. His hug was remarkably firm, and it worried me a little because I knew if he didn't let go I wouldn't be able to make him. To my relief, he released me after a five or six second squeeze. I turned away hastily, hoping he didn't see the deep pink hue of my cheeks.

"Ah- ha- you're welcome Arthur." I laughed uncomfortably. "Careful though, let's not attract attention from the orderlies... you'd better sit back down." I glanced anxiously out of the window. Luckily, Max was mouthing off to Tyler and hadn't seemed to notice anything. "So they're going to escort you downstairs later," I continued after he sat down. "But I'll see you tomorrow morning in the new room ok? I'm going to put you in for an extra appointment, just to make sure you're settling in."

"Yes m'aam." He was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

Our first appointment in the lower security wing was strange; I wasn't used to the room being so casual, with no windows to the orderlies outside, just me, Arthur and the table we were sitting at, talking over. At first I went over to undo his cuffs but realized of course he didn't have any; that made things easier. It also made things a lot more comfortable for him. I found that things quickly settled into our usual pattern of talking, so I felt more comfortable as the session went on. I couldn't help feeling that Arthur was a little distracted however; he kept looking around the room, bouncing his knees, finishing his cigarette a little faster than usual.

"So you have all your appointments in here huh?" He asked.

"Yes, all of them now that you've moved. This room or one of the adjacent rooms. They're all exactly the same."

"Huh. How many appointments do you have per day?"

"About 6, but it varies."

"Do you see any patients more frequently than me?"

The conversation had turned back to me, like it did in a lot of our initial sessions. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wondering what triggered the regression. Maybe he was just a bit overwhelmed with the new situation. As far as I knew he'd been in high security for a long time.

"I see some other patients the same amount, but nobody more than 3 times a week no. Arthur, would you mind if we talked about you again?" I gently tried to steer things back. "I'm happy to answer your questions but we only have a limited amount of time."

"Who was it that you said did those drawings?" Arthur changed the topic suddenly. "The pencil drawings you had with you the other day? Another patient?"br /

"Oh- yes his name is Noah." I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Arthur shrugged.

"Okay... So, I was wondering if we could talk about your face paint? What it means to you? Why you wear- I mean wore- it?"

He chewed on the end of his cigarette, looking at me. "I could ask the same thing. Why do _you_ wear makeup?"

It was a fair question, even though I knew he was just being difficult. I knew the only way I'd have any success would be to answer his questions, and hope this prompted him to do the same. Our game of cat and mouse continued for the rest of the session, and I walked away frustrated that things had regressed so much.

_He's just adjusting. Give it time._

I told myself. I really hoped I hadn't made a mistake, moving him out of high security. Because if I had, it was a big one.

* * *

Dr Crane approached me in my office at lunch, which I knew could only be a bad sign.

"Dr. Crane." I smiled politely anyway, not wanting to give away my suspicions. "Is there something I can help with?"

"Dr Lawson." He didn't return my smile, but sat down in the chair opposite my desk of his own accord. "I've heard from some of the nurses that you've been asking questions about me."

"I- well-" I was stunned that he brought this up so bluntly; how was I supposed to respond?

"You've been asking about how I've treated my patients, my track record. I also took the liberty of looking at your search history in the Arkham databases and I see you've been searching up me and anyone I've ever diagnosed."

He looked up my search history? Was that even allowed? I realized I was a bit screwed; it would've been easy to see that I zeroed in on Maroni.

"Dr. Crane, I-"

"I'm here to ask you to cease and desist." He interrupted, looking at my sharply through his thin-rimmed glasses. His eyes gleamed with anger that I could tell was just barely under control, and even though he smiled it did nothing to diminish my terror. "If you don't, I can guarantee you you'll regret it."

"Dr. Crane, I can assure you I was just looking for information to better help my patient Noah." I insisted, playing dumb. "I had no ulterior motive."

"You'll back off if you know what's good for you." He replied, giving me a fake smile once again. "That's all."

"Wait-" I wanted to ask him questions directly. Even if it was in the form of provoking him, perhaps I could get to the bottom of this? But he'd already shown himself out, leaving me speechless and a little scared, but also sure that I was on the right track. I emreally/em needed to find out more about this Maroni.

* * *

I had an appointment with Noah just after lunch on Friday. Despite what Crane had said to me, and the regression with Arthur, I was in a good mood; for some reason I just felt optimistic. "Hello Noah." I smiled at him. "How are you? How's your art going?"

"Hi Dr Lawson, it's good." And for the first time I think I'd seen, Noah smiled back. His smile warmed me to the core; it really made me feel like we'd come a long way from his terrified expression that first day.

I was about to continue but I heard the sound of the doorknob being turned; someone was trying to enter the room while a session was in progress. We had signs on the doors for this very reason, to protect patient confidentiality. It was a massive breach of privacy and hugely unprofessional for somebody to be trying to get in right now. I looked up with a frown, expecting to see one of the orderlies but with a jolt of shock I recognised the arrogant facial expression that towered above me. I was chilled by the fact that he was wearing his make-up once more.

"Oh, Arthur? Our appointment isn't until tomorrow. Is there something- Arthur what are you- ARTHUR NO!" I shrieked as he grabbed Noah, pulled a broken pair of scissors out of his pocket and plunged the blade into Noah's neck. A jet of blood sprayed from the flesh between his collarbone and adams apple in a way that seemed almost unrealistic - though perhaps that was because I'd never seen something so horrific in real life before. I blinked in shock for a second as the blood splattered across my face, hitting my tongue and inside of my nose, filling my tastebuds with rust.

"OH MY GOD ARTHUR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I scrambled forward, ignoring the fact that I was way too late; the Joker knew how to kill someone, and his blow had been straight to the carotid artery. As I tried in vain to restrain him he pulled out the weapon and stabbed it right into Noah's left eye, mutilating his face. "NO! Arthur! STOP! Please stop!" I was sobbing and screaming simultaneously, and as I pulled on his arm again he shook me off, hard, launching me backwards into the table we'd just been sitting calmly at. Arthur had dropped Noah in the process, but nonchalantly bent down and twisted his fist into Noah's hair. I covered my eyes but still heard the horrible THWACK as Arthur slammed Noah's head against the floor once, twice - I stopped counting after five because there was only one thing it could mean. I dared a glimpse and whined in devastation; a lot of what I was seeing was blood, but his caved in skull was very obvious, and I could see his face was completely deformed from the assault. I knew immediately that Noah was very dead and I sank to the floor with great, heaving sobs. "N-No, no... Noah..." I moaned in grief, taking his cold hand as if I could still help. "Arthur, w-why...?"

Arthur threw the scissors to the corner of the room, looking satisfied, before turning his attention on my pathetic form huddled over the corpse he had just created. "...Why Arthur...? He never did anything..." I whimpered in pain as he wound his fingers into my hair and pulled, lifting me up towards him. I desperately didn't want to look him in the eyes but he forced me, grabbing my chin and dragging it in the direction of his painted face. He was smirking slightly and it made me sick; there were daubs of blood all over us both - it sat in long streaks on my face after mingling with the fat tears I was shedding - and there was a dead young boy on the floor. How could he find this amusing?

"Why? emYou/em did this Mia." Arthur stated, clearly relishing the moment. "This is on you."

I looked down at Noah and regretted it immediately, breaking into a fresh cascade of sobs. "B-But... w-why...?" I managed to mumble, staring at Arthur's shoes.

"You still don't understand do you? You can't fix me. I don't need to be fixed." He smiled again as he stroked my cheek roughly with his thumb, smearing the still wet blood across it like some sick kind of war paint. His skin was like sandpaper. "I like the way I am."

I didn't know what to say; I just choked out another pained sob in response.

"I'm pretty comfortable being in the lower security wing, so you'll tell them this was a suicide." He stated. "Otherwise I might feel the urge to do this again. Ok?"

_No, not okay. Very not okay. So far from okay._

I said nothing but Arthur wasn't having that: he hit me, hard, straight across the face, my right cheek taking most of the blow but my nose also getting caught in the crossfire.

"I said, ok? Are you going to do that for me?"

"... Y-yes..." I mumbled eventually, through tears and pain. "...B-But... the cameras..."

"Oh, don't worry princess," he grabbed my face again and squeezed my cheeks. "I already took care of that. Besides, nobody here gives enough of a shit to check anyway. They'll take whatever you say as gospel because it's less work for them." His sickening laugher bounced off the walls for a minute before he let me go and marched out of the room.

I curled into a ball near Noah's body, weeping gently.


	8. Chapter 8: Suicide

**Chapter 8: Suicide**

* * *

The asylum coroner noted down my mumbled declaration of "s-suicide" without a single question. I felt cowardly for complying with Arthur's demands, but what choice did I have? I couldn't let that happen again. Arkham wasn't losing another patient because of me. Sure, if I told the truth and they put him back in high security it would make things a bit more difficult for him, but he'd already shown me how talented he was as an escape artist; if he was happy to break his own hand just to scare me, there was no telling what lengths he'd go to. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take.

Ben could tell something was up when I came through the door that night. My eyes were red raw but still shining from further tears that threatened to spill, and my face was set in a taut grimace.

"Mia... what?"

I collapsed into his arms just inside the doorway, starting to cry in long, loud shrieks. Now that I was in private I didn't care how much noise I was making. For what must've been an hour Ben just held me, still, stroking my hair and occasionally wiping away my tears.

"Mia... What happened?" He probed gently, when I finally seemed to have run dry, only able to hiccup and sniffle.

I didn't even want to say it. Saying it out loud felt like living it all over again. I had to give Ben an explanation though, especially since he'd been so accommodating. I sucked in a breath. "A... a patient died in front of me today." I choked out.

"Oh god, Mia... I-I'm so sorry." He cupped my cheek in his palm, stroking the surface softly with his thumb. "How? What happened?"

I paused. Was I really going to lie to Ben too?

"They killed themselves." I whispered. Apparently, yes, I was. "There was... there was so much blood..." Being a Doctor, having gone through medical school, I was no stranger to trauma, blood and gore. I'd never been particularly squeamish, and doing rotations on the ER wards exposed you to things that were just as bad, if not worse, than what I'd seen that day. But for some reason this was having a much, much worse effect on me; normally I saw this kind of thing in a clinical environment, where it was being fixed, where people were just there to help. I never saw the actual event that _caused _the trauma. This was so different. The hatred and violence that came from Arthur was terrifying, and the blood wasn't just blood; it was Noah's life-force draining away.

"That's awful... I'm so sorry Honey." Ben looked at the ground, knowing there was not much he could say to make me feel better. "If they were that dangerous to themselves why were they not restrained?" He asked.

"...we didn't... he never exhibited this type of behavior before... nobody expected it."

_Yeah because he didn't do it._

"Well was there nobody there to stop them? Don't they have measures in place to avoid this kind of thing?"

I could see he was getting heated and I shook my head, not wanting to get into an argument about how dangerous Arkham was right now. He seemed to sense my apprehension and didn't press it. Instead he took my hand and lifted me up gently.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"No... I- I just want to go to bed..." I desperately just wanted today to be over.

"Okay honey, you let me know if you need anything okay? I'll head to bed in a couple of hours."

I nodded, pacing slowly to the bedroom. I dragged my feet; they simultaneously felt heavy and numb. Nothing felt real. I slid under the covers without even changing my clothes, still fully dressed in a buttoned up shirt and suit skirt.

I knew there was no chance I could get to sleep without some help. My hand fumbled clumsily in my bedside cabinet in the dark, closing around a small bottle of pills. I rarely used drugs to get to sleep, but if there was any time it was justified, it was now. I set my alarm before quickly swallowing double the recommended dose and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the darkness to take me.

* * *

I was sitting across from Arthur, fidgeting. My hands were in my lap, and I was picking at a hangnail at the corner of my left thumb. _Anything_ but look up at the man sitting across from me. I was continuing his sessions as normal. I was at work as normal. What else could I do? I'd never experienced anything _remotely_ like this and I had no idea how to handle it. I'd fought with myself all morning about whether or not to move him back to maximum security, but decided against it; I'd seen him casually break his hands to get out of cuffs, he'd somehow disabled the cameras in the patient rooms, I knew that somehow he would be able to get out. And he would do it. He would kill more people if I didn't do what he said. But here, in low security, he was exposed to so many more people. He had so many opportunities to kill. My brain throbbed with the uncertainty of my dilemma. What was I supposed to do? Who could I even ask for help? I'd had a row with Ben that morning too; he'd thought it was absurd that I was going into work. _'Somebody died in front of you Mia! Don't they have leave for grief? Trauma? You need to recover. I'm not letting you go.' _As much as Ben had objected, I had insisted. I was scared, terrified that if I just didn't show up Arthur would take that as a reason to go on a killing spree. I'd snuck out the door under the guise of pretending to take a shower. I knew he'd be pissed at me later. But I didn't know what else to do.

"...why did you kill him Arthur?" I asked eventually, my voice hoarse from crying. "Was it revenge? What did he do to you?"

"Oh, I didn't even know him." Arthur shrugged. "I already forgot his name."

"W-what? Then why...?!" I nearly screamed the words, but before he could answer it hit me: he did it to get to _me_. He picked Noah because he saw the drawings, he made the connection that it was probably a patient I cared about. He knew it would hurt _me_. "...you wanted to teach me a lesson?" I suggested, numbly.

"I guess, sort of." Arthur sucked on his cigarette, so untroubled by the whole thing that it made me feel sick. "I just thought it was funny that you thought you could fix me, or whatever you want to think your job is. I just wanted to show you you're fighting a losing battle."

"...B-but... I thought we were making progress... I thought-—"

"You thought what? You thought you _cured _me_? _After 3 months?_"_

I said nothing, realizing that was pretty much _exactly_ what I'd thought. It sounded ridiculous when he put it in such plain terms.

Arthur laughed knowingly. "Get your head out of your ass Mia. You think you're that special that you can waltz in here and turn me into a model citizen with a couple scripted questions? Sure, I like you more than most Doctors; I actually feel like you listen to what I'm saying, and you manage to treat me with a shred of dignity. But you seem to still be under the illusion that I'm unhappy the way I am, that I need help. Well let me tell you something princess." He smirked. "I'm better than ever."

"B-But... couldn't you just... just t-tell me that? Instead... instead of-" I was crying again; at this point I was surprised I had any tears left. He was right. I'd been so up my own ass thinking I was _so _good at my job, that I'd somehow managed to get through to such a notorious criminal after nobody else could, and where had it got me? Not only was a young man _dead_, because of _me_, but I'd also put the killer in a place where he could do more damage. I'd really screwed up. All because I'd put myself on a pedestal. Because I was a fucking conceited idiot. I covered my face with my hands, heaving a heavy sob.

_Why don't you use that smart ass to get out of this situation now Mia?_

I asked myself.

_Oh you don't know what to do? Well you're fucked. And you've fucked everyone else over too._

Arthur seemed to be enjoying my torment. He took slow drags of smoke, spectating as he watched my resolve crumpling. "You're awfully quiet Mia." He smiled cruelly. I realized we'd been sitting in silence for a good five minutes while my mind churned. I blinked slowly, trying to reset my focus.

"So if you think you can't be fixed..." I stared at the floor while I spoke to him. "I guess you want to stop having these sessions with me? Well..." I took a deep breath. It was so hard to be brave at that moment. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen."

He was amused. "Why's that?"

"Because I'm not giving up on you Arthur. Even after this. I see something human in you, even if it's buried deep, _deep_ down." I gritted my teeth. "And I still think I can find that part."

"Heh. I might believe that princess... if you could actually look me in the eyes. You don't see anything good in me. That's why you keep staring at the ground."

"I..." Shit. He was right. _Again_. I was out of my depth here. Still, I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze up to his face. Seeing his bright eyes gleam amidst his painted features was enough to bring back the visual of Noah's head being slammed against the wall, the scissor blade plunging into his neck, the blood splattering across my face. I threw my hand over my mouth, sure I was going to throw up. I looked away. It took a huge amount of effort to swallow the nausea that consumed me but I managed not to vomit all over the table.

"Either way," Arthur spoke again. "I'm glad you want to continue, because so do I. In fact I want you to increase the frequency. Daily."

"D-daily?" I mumbled. Why?

"Don't get me wrong, I'm planning to break out of here soon. But I have a few things to do first, and you can help me."

"H-Help you? With what?" My job was to help, but I couldn't avoid feeling that the things he would want assistance with wouldn't be stuff I wanted to do at all.

"We'll get to that." He finished his cigarette and flicked it into the corner. Before picking out another he leaned forward and I caught a whiff of the same smell I'd got when he hugged me; tobacco and sterile laundry. "I'm going to get annoyed eventually if you can't look at me for more than a few seconds Mia."

I tried to look at him again, I really did. But I still tasted bile in my throat and couldn't bear the thought of Noah's deformed skull flashing in front of my eyes again. I didn't even look up when his hand wrapped around my jaw, though I knew now I was delaying the inevitable.

"Why does it even bother you so much?" He sounded genuinely curious. "How well did you even know him?"

I resisted hard when Arthur dragged my chin upwards but his fingers were curling painfully into my face, pressing the soft inside of my cheek against my teeth. "Not well." I choked out. "But... I cared. I care about all my patients Arthur." I was looking him in the eyes again now. "Even you." He stared me down with a great amount of interest, still clutching my jaw with an unnecessary amount of force. I could tell he didn't understand what it was to care. He clearly hadn't cared about anyone for a long time. I flinched when he lifted his other hand, but he didn't hit me. He did however slide it into my hair, tightening it into a fist enough so I couldn't move easily but not quite enough to cause me pain. I waited for him to speak but he said nothing, still just watching me. He didn't notice or care when my tears hit his hand and started sliding down to his wrist.

"You know how much pain goes away when you just stop caring Mia?" I could feel his breath hitting my face when he finally spoke. He was much too close. I was feeling sick again.

"I-I... I don't want to stop caring..." I sobbed through his hand. "I can't."

He sighed in faux-exasperation, though I knew he was finding this whole ordeal funny. "It's okay Mia. I think that's what I like about you: your indestructible naivety." He released my jaw and hair, but then rested his hands on my shoulders, still maintaining the unwanted contact.

"Mia. Look at me."

He said my name so often now that I no longer flinched every time, but it still drew my attention. I hated the way it rolled off his tongue, as if by saying it he had control over me. I shook my head in refusal. I knew I should be strong, show him he wasn't getting to me, but I couldn't. He'd have to _make_ me look at his stupid clown face.

I expected to feel his hand gripping my jaw again but instead he sat back, and I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding as a reaction to his hands on me.

"You know how boring it is just to watch you sit there crying?" He lit another cigarette.

Was he kidding?

"W-What- A-Are you f- Boring?!" I began to vibrate with anger. "Well maybe you should've thought of that before-—" I took a deep breath. Getting hysterical wasn't helpful.

Arthur was smirking. I knew he always enjoyed getting a rise out of me. "C'mon, continue. I want to see that side of you." He cocked his head to the side with amusement.

I resisted the urge to hurl profanities at him, a feat that was _incredibly_ difficult. Ghandi would've been proud of my restraint. "Why don't you do the talking for a bit in that case Arthur?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He considered me for a second with an expression that said it was a stupid ask but maybe he'd humor me anyway.

"Where do you live Mia?"

"Oh... actually I meant talk about _yourself_-"

"Where do you live?" The second time he said it with more force.

I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again, finally deciding to answer. "U-Upper Gotham. Near Robinson Park."

"That's funny." He sat forward again. "In our first session you told me you lived in Gotham Heights." This time when Arthur's cigarette left his mouth, he took hold of my wrist at the same moment. I reflexively tried to pull back but he held it in place as he brought the tip of the cigarette down onto my arm. "You're usually so truthful Mia." He stared at me as he pressed the burning ash into my skin. "Don't ruin it."

"F-fine Gotham Heights! Gotham Heights!" I shrieked the words at him, wanting him to stop the burning pain. He didn't release me for a further three seconds.

"You live with just your husband?" His knee was jiggling violently while he sat, a common tick of his. Even though I'd seen it a lot of times before, for some reason it seemed more ominous now.

"Y-Yes..."

I'd told him about my husband too. Jesus fucking shit why was I so fucking naive?!

"What's his name?"

Shit. Had I told him that? Could I make something up? I racked my brains, trying to remember if I'd ever said 'Ben' in front of him. In our earlier sessions he'd turned the conversation back to me so often, it could've easily come up.

"...Ben." I said eventually, still feeling the sting of the burn on my left forearm.

The grilling continued for a considerable amount of time and I answered him honestly out of fear, which was now paired with an undercurrent of shame that I was letting him manipulate me with such ease. What did he want all this information for? What was he planning?

He knew far too much about me, and I could only blame myself.

The level of my foolishness dawned on me once again.

"Well this was fun." He said finally, standing up. "I think I have all the information I need."

I couldn't have been more thankful that it was the end of our session.

"Don't forget to add those two extra sessions Mia." He reminded me with a wink as he approached the door. "For what I have planned, we need all the time we can get."


	9. Chapter 9: Heist

**Chapter 9: Heist**

Ben was _pissed. _He was already home when I eventually had the courage to sneak in, trying to creep past him in the kitchen due to not wanting the confrontation.

"You're really unbelievable Mia."

I froze mid tip-toe. He'd heard me come in but had apparently just been ignoring me in my so-called stealth. It was then that he turned around, arms folded, brow furrowed. I hung my head, shame preventing me from looking in his eyes.

"First you sneak out of here when I told you repeatedly there's no way you should go. Then you have the audacity to try and sneak past me without even attempting to apologise?" He was beginning to yell the words. "It's absolutely ridiculous that you went into work today Mia. Not only is it terrible for your own health, but you can't possibly be in the mental state to treat your patients! You're probably giving them terrible advice! I should report you for malpractice!"

I bit my lip. He was right, about everything. The lying and sneaking and generally acting crazy was horribly unfair to him. But I couldn't tell him what was going on; he'd march down to the police station himself and then it would all be over. And if I couldn't tell him the truth I couldn't think of any way to explain my erratic behavior. The only option was to lie and have him mad at me for it. It was so unfair. I knew he wouldn't _actually_ report me but the idea brought tears to my eyes all the same. What if I _was_ hurting my patients? I definitely wasn't making anything close to the right judgements recently. But even if I wanted to take myself out of the picture... I couldn't. I looked up at him finally, scrubbing away my tears in frustration. I didn't want him to think that I was crying just to make his resolve waver, or that I didn't mean my apology.

"Ben I'm so sorry..." I closed the gap between us and took his hands. "I know I've been acting... just crazy and awful. It's not fair to you at all... I just... I think what I saw yesterday, it messed with my head. I don't know why I went into work... I thought it would just take those things out of my mind b-but... you're right, it was stupid."

It was sort of true; my mind had felt messed up since seeing Noah die. It hadn't been what made me go into work though. I sniffed hard, my eyes shining. "I'm really sorry honey."

Ben sighed and he appeared not to be able to retain his anger any longer. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.

"It's okay babe... I'm sorry I shouted. I just worry about you..."

"I know." I returned the hug and sobbed into his soft shirt. "Thank you for caring so much about me."

"Of course honey. I love you so much."

"I love you."

Luckily it was Friday; I had the weekend for my 'recovery'. I hoped Ben would be okay with me resuming work on the Monday. If he wasn't... well I hoped he would forgive me again.

* * *

Ben did seem content with me going back into work; I'd tried especially hard to appear like I'd got my head together over the weekend in an attempt to alleviate his concerns. In reality, Noah's death was still playing in my head over and over again like a broken VHS and I was very far from 'recovered'. I could hear my own screams as the soundtrack as well as the loud THWACK that my brain seemed to be able to replicate perfectly. It appeared to be the only material used for my dreams too, such that I tossed and turned most of the night. Whenever I drifted off for a small amount of time I would wake in a cold sweat, shaking. It was for this reason that I looked like I'd been punched in the face a couple of times when I headed in that morning; my eyes were adorned with two dark purple smudges below my lower eyelids. Helen commented that I should probably run to Starbucks and grab us both a coffee.

I had to add Arthur into my schedule for two additional days. I didn't have much room. The only free slots I had... used to belong to Noah. No, there was _no way_ I could give Arthur Noah's slots. It felt like such a horrendous disrespect to his memory. I stared at my calendar as if a new chunk of time would just appear, like magic. I couldn't schedule any appointments outside regular working hours; the patients were locked up in the night so most of the staff could go home. Eventually I settled for moving some of my other patients around into Noah's slots, and putting Arthur into the slots that were freed up as a result. It still felt like I was taking advantage of Noah's death though. I blinked as a large blob of water splashed onto the pages, making the ink spider out in all directions. I hadn't noticed I was crying.

Arthur's appointment was at the end of the day, which gave me a good eight hours for my mind to churn with dread. Perfect. He was later than me this time, which was unusual; normally he'd be waiting comfortably, already halfway through a smoke.

"Hello Arthur."

"Hi Princess."

There was a screech of metal on tile as Arthur dragged his chair around the table, right next to where mine was. He plopped down on it casually, leaning back with his legs spread wide. He was close enough that his legs pressed up against the outside of my left thigh. I couldn't help throwing him a look of distaste, which I immediately regretted: with a smirk, he took hold of my chair and turned me ninety degrees so I was facing him. As a final touch he tugged me forwards, so my knees - politely pressed together - rested right between his. Satisfied, he reclined again, lighting a cigarette as he did so. _Your move,_ said his facial expression.

"I- Is this necessary Arthur?" I bridled at his touch. I didn't want him close to me. I hadn't failed to notice how much more touchy-feely he seemed to be getting, ever since that time he'd hugged me. It was subtle, occasional - but before he'd always been content sitting at least a metre away across a table. How I wished to go back to those days. Now when he jiggled his knee I could feel the vibration by proxy.

"Necessary? I guess not." He grinned.

Ok, I guess I was asking for a smart-ass response like that, but I still had an incredible urge to retreat to the other side of the room so I didn't have to feel the inside of his thigh brush against the outside of mine. I knew he wouldn't take kindly to that though, so I sucked it up.

"So today I was thinking we could talk about-"

"I already have an agenda for today." Arthur interrupted me, talking around his cancer stick. "Your first errand." After digging through his pocket for a beat, he handed me a scrappy piece of paper. I noticed it was a poster he'd ripped off the wall, and it was covered in an ugly black scrawl of misspelled words, ink blotches and crossed out sentences. In the corner, circled haphazardly, was an address.

"What's this?"

"A shopping list."

"A shopping list?" I scanned the items, struggling to interpret his spelling. _HD Blutooth earpeeces, 6 x Wireles dropcam, tape, eethernet cabul, batries... _"What-" I studied his expression. "You want me to get this stuff for you?"

"Yes. Tonight. Go to that address." He pointed to the questionable circle.

"W-Why?" I looked at the list again, trying to think of what terrible things he could do with what was on it. Most of them seemed pretty innocuous, that is, except for the Colt Python listed right at the bottom. A gun. _He wants me to get a gun. _

Each time he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth he rested his hand briefly on my thigh. I eyed the burning end of it nervously as it hovered inches from my skin.

"Arthur... Why... What do you want with all this stuff? You know I can't bring it here, I could maybe sneak some of it in but not the bigger stuff... Not to mention you're asking me to get a _firearm!_"

"I don't need you to bring it here, just take it home for now."

"Home?!" I was about to tell him how ridiculous that was, that I wasn't hiding incriminating evidence at my house, that there was no way I wanted to bring a gun near my family - but I knew he wouldn't care. So I shut my mouth, instead opting to figure out a bit more about his sinister plans. "What is it all for? What am I going to do with it?" Did he want me to hold it for him until he escaped? A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of Arthur in my house. _My_ house. With my husband. With a gun. I wasn't going to let that happen.

"You'll find out soon enough princess."

"I- ... Arthur..." What? What was I going to say? Sorry I can't? Do it yourself? We'd already established that I had to obey him or face the consequences. Just because I didn't like what he was asking me to do I wasn't excused. I just hoped by the end of it all, I'd still be able to live with myself. "...Ok." My affirmation came out as a whisper.

Arthur's hand darted out to grip my chin, two bony fingers on one side, thumb on the other. He squeezed my cheeks together, something he seemed to enjoy doing a lot lately.

"It's nice that I don't have to keep reminding you why you have to do what I say Mia. It becomes very tiring, believe me. You're a smart girl."

That was me. An obedient little puppy. An unprofessional, naive, weak, yellow-bellied moron. I said nothing and stared at the ground in shame.

* * *

Arthur had instructed me to bring one thing into the hospital; the bluetooth earpieces. I guessed he was going to use it to communicate with me remotely? What was he going to have me doing that required having him in my ear constantly? I shuddered at the thought.

"Here." I slammed the earpieces on the table, almost breaking them. He noticed my anger and a smirk played around his lips, finding amusement in my distress as usual.

"Perfect." He ripped the packaging open, examining the instructions briefly before turning the earpieces on. "Here." He held one out to me.

"What?"

"Put it in your ear."

"Why? I- Arthur!" I jumped when he took hold of my chin with one hand. He pulled, turning my head to the side. Then, almost tenderly, he tucked my hair behind my ear and a shiver ran down my spine - Arthur being gentle was almost worse than Arthur smacking me about. He chewed on his cigarette in concentration as he slid the small device into my ear.

"Ok... let's see." He popped the other earpiece into his own ear and spoke. "Testing. Testing. Remember Gotham, that's life!"

I could hear him speak in front of me, but the sound was also emitted crisply from the earpiece, straight into my ear. It was like he was inside my head.

"I-It's working..." I mumbled, unhappily. I'd hoped it wouldn't.

"Great! I hope you're ready for another adventure."

"Adventure?"

"I want you to take the bus to Gotham National Bank. Grab the stuff you bought yesterday on the way."

"R-Right now? Why?" I was starting to panic. "You- you're... you're not going to make me rob the bank are you? Arthur please-"

He snickered at my distress. "No I'm not going to make you rob the bank. That's a little beyond your abilities Mimi."

I blinked at the sudden introduction of a new nickname, feeling nauseous. _Mimi? _I hated when he called me Princess but this seemed much worse; far too personal.

"No," He continued before I had a chance to respond. "I just need to you help me survey the place. Do some recon."

"Arthur please don't drag me into this, I'm begging you..." I was close to tears. "I'll do anything..."

His eyebrows shot up at my declaration and I caught a quickly concealed smirk. It took me a couple of seconds to realise the implications of what I said.

"Hmm." Arthur leaned forward, pressing a hand down onto my thigh to keep his balance. His face hovered inches from mine and I could smell the waves of tobacco that came with his breath. "Anything?" His hand slid up my leg and I blushed violently. _What the fuck is he doing?_ I wanted to lean back but I was frozen in terror and disgust as Arthur's hand continued to roam, stopping eventually at my hip. I let out a squeak when he pulled me forwards by my pelvis, so my thighs were sandwiched even more tightly between his. "Are you sure about that?"

I stood up, nearly falling backwards over the chair in my desperation to get away. For what it was worth, he let me go, cackling at my panic.

"I-I'll go. I'll go to the bank." I whispered, refusing to let my mind consider the horrible scenarios that suddenly seemed far too possible.

* * *

During the whole bus ride I was sure everyone was staring at me. They knew where I was going, what was in my handbag, I was sure of it. Someone was going to call the police any second. I was wearing a wig, a false nose and a fake mole and clothes that were totally out of character for me. I felt utterly ridiculous, but I was glad I was disguised.

"Are you there yet?" Arthur's voice reverberated through my head via the earpiece, sending a shiver down my spine. It was like he was standing right behind me."Mimi? Can you hear me? Don't ignore me, you'll make me angry."

"Yes." I hissed eventually. How was I supposed to reply without looking like a nutjob talking to herself?

Arthur continued to bother me until I reached the bank. For a second, I considered throwing the earpiece on the ground and running to the police station. But I knew I couldn't. He knew where I lived. Where my husband lived. My husband's name, age, job. I couldn't risk losing Ben; he was all I had.

I entered the grand building. It was huge inside, massive marble arches framing the mundane counters filled with bank tellers. Gotham's biggest bank.

"You're gonna go down to the vault."

"The vault?!" I forgot to whisper for a second and a few people looked up at me; luckily nobody who looked like a security guard.

"It's easy, don't fret. There's a security door near the back left, near the restrooms. Go there."

My feet obeyed; I wondered how on earth he was planning to get me in. I wasn't a stealthy person, we'd established that.

"What about the cameras?" I whispered.

"They don't watch them live, they'll just review them later if they realise something's up. You'll be long gone. Now pull out that green plastic thing that's shaped like an L."

With Arthur's help, I was able to tailgate behind an employee using the fingerprint and retinal scanners, procure a nametag, and make my way to the vault.

"Now set up the camera opposite the vault, and plug it into an Ethernet port. There should be one somewhere near the floor."

I could hear the glee in Arthur's voice and I hated how much he was enjoying himself when I was scared out of my mind. Still, the area was conveniently deserted so it was fairly easy for me to follow his instructions using the tools he'd made me buy.

"Set up the camera using the app on your phone. You should be able to access it and see the vault."

"I- I think I got it working!" I instantly felt sick at the excitement in my voice. This wasn't _exciting_! This was horrifying! I'd expected myself to fail; I'd always imagined you had to be incredibly skilled to do this kind of thing but it seemed so... easy.

"O-ok Arthur is that everything? I-"

I froze as I heard the distinct, chilling sound of footsteps approaching. Close. They couldn't be further than just around the corner. Shit.

"A-Arthur I think there's someone coming-" My voice was rising in panic.

"That's what the gun is for, Mia. Make sure you use the silencer."

"Gun?...A-A-Are... are you kidding? I'm not _shooting _someone!" I hissed the words; I was absolutely livid and incredulous but also wildly aware that the person approaching could possibly hear me. "What the fuck made you think I would even consider-"

"Up to you if you want to go to jail princess."

"Y-You asshole! You knew this was going to happen! Are you trying to get me committed? You want me to be stuck with you in Arkham forever is that it?!" My hushed tone was becoming hysterical and I was beginning to sob, but I knew I had to collect myself if I was going to get out of this unscathed. I managed to stuff everything I was holding into my coat pockets before the approaching person rounded the corner.

"Hands up!"

It was a police officer. Shit. I took a deep breath and turned to look at him, holding my hands up to the officer who stood cautiously, pointing a gun at me.

"H-Hello officer."

_Shit Mia, stop stuttering. Why don't you just tell him right now you're committing a crime?_

I steeled my resolve. "Hello officer. Um, sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"You're in a restricted area M'aam. You tripped a silent alarm."

"Restricted?" I decided to go for the wide eyed, innocent approach. "I'm so sorry- I was looking for the restrooms and I got turned around. I'm very lost. Could you show me the way out?"

The cop looked sceptical but lowered his gun, approaching me. "This place isn't easy to just stumble upon by accident. How did you get through the retinal scanners?"

"Oh, someone held the door open for me - I didn't even know it was locked!" It was almost true.

"God I bet it was that idiot Warner. " He rolled his eyes, sighing. Apparently this wasn't the first time this had happened, and I dared not believe my luck. "I'm going to have to escort you out of here Miss, just be careful where you go poking around in future ok?"

"Yes Officer, I'm very sorry." I hung my head, hamming it up as much as possible.

"Don't forget your bag." He pointed to my bag of tools on the floor.

My bag. _My bag?_ Shit. Shit shit shit.

"Oh, that's not-"

"What is all this stuff?" He reached for it and began rooting through all of the incriminating materials, each one sealing my fate. "Pliers, gloves, wiring..."

My hand closed around the gun in my pocket.

"Ethernet cable..." He looked up at me. "M'aam is this stuff yours?"

"I-"

"M'aam I'm going to need you to empty your pockets."

There wasn't any way of talking myself out of it now. So I ran.

"M'aam- HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Oh fuck. I fled down the corridor as fast as I could manage, but I'd never been a fast runner and he was gaining on me quickly. In a moment of panic I darted left, into a storage room. I took cover behind some large boxes.

"M'aam, if you come out with your hands up right now I'll be lenient on you, otherwise I- oof!"

I'd seen my chance, just after he passed my hiding spot. I jumped out and hit him on the back of the head with the gun. The officer fell to the floor with a thump, out cold.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." I stared at the unconscious body on the floor, dropping the gun in shock.

"Miiiiiaaaa-" Arthur sang my name. "What's going on?"

I ignored him. What the fuck was I doing? What was wrong with me? I began to back away. I had to get out of here- wait, I couldn't leave the gun! It had my fingerprints all over it! I dashed back, picking up the Colt, dropping it twice in fear as I stumbled away. I ran back up the corridor, back the way I'd come, through the security doors, through the front hall, out onto the street. I didn't stop running for five blocks. I rounded a corner into a quiet alley, pulling off the wig, nose and other stupid props as I began to break down.

I'd just assaulted a police officer. _I'd just assaulted a police officer! _He'd seen me too, my face, my hair - everything. I was going to be thrown in jail, that was it. They'd find me. Arrest me. Should I go to a regular jail or plead insanity? Maybe I'd be lucky enough to be put in Brentwood, would Ben pay for it? But what if I ended up somewhere in Arkham? A sob escaped me as the possibilities rapidly flew through my mind. How did it come to this? My back slid down the wall as I sank to my knees. I didn't know if he was still listening to the earpiece and I didn't care, but my next words came out as no more than a whisper. "Arthur... you're ruining my life..."


	10. Chapter 10: Collapse

**Chapter 10: Collapse**

* * *

"Helen, I need you to move Arthur Fleck's appointment up to be the first appointment of the day." I was in the office early, having not known what to do with myself since the bank. "As soon as possible please." I wrung my hands in impatience.

"Arthur Fleck?" Helen scanned my schedule. "I'll have to move a bunch of things around... you're seeing him at noon, can it not wait a couple of hours?"

"Just do it please Helen!" I snapped. "This one time, please just do your fucking job."

Helen's eyes widened as if I'd slapped her, and she could only stare at me, which just annoyed me further.

"Now, Helen! Not next week."

"Alright! Jesus. Don't get your panties in a twist." She muttered, but to her credit, did sit down at her computer to do what I asked. Normally I would've felt some remorse speaking to her that way - heck I never would've done it in the first place. But that was the last thing on my mind.

"Arthur."

"Hi Mi-mi." He sauntered up to me when I entered. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this early?"

I slapped him. Hard. I had a lot more strength in my arms than I knew, and the _smack_ that echoed around the room was indescribably satisfying. I realized I'd been wanting to do it for a long time but my desperate attempts to cling on to professionalism always got in the way. My hand stung, sure, but it was a good sting, and the look of shock on Arthur's face was totally worth it. However, it wasn't long at all before his expression twisted into a smirk. That same, cruel, amused smile that had been taunting me for so long, destroying my life. How could he be enjoying even this? I wanted to wipe that stupid smile right off his painted face. I stretched my hand back again, poised for another blow, but this time as I swung it forward he caught my wrist just inches from his face. Thwarted again by his effortless strength and razor sharp reflexes. I stood frozen, my arm held up in his vice-like grip, my mind contemplating whether I could do any damage with my left hand.

"If you wanted to play rough Princess, you just had to say so."

"Let go Arthur." I growled in what I hoped was a threatening tone.

"What's wrong Mi-mi? You seem angry."

"Angry? A-Are you kidding me Arthur? I'm not angry, I'm _livid. _How could you make me do that? Put me through that?"

"That reminds me, we still need to see how you did."

"What do you me- hey!" I flinched as he slid a hand into my pocket, thinking he was trying to feel me up; but he was going for my phone. He was still holding onto my right hand so it was easy for him to force my finger against the fingerprint scanner to unlock it.

"Lets see..." He murmured. "Dropcam... here we go."

I'd been so freaked out after running away from the bank I hadn't even checked the camera after leaving. Maybe that was why I didn't try to snatch the phone back; I couldn't help being curious. Had I set it up right? What would we see? What was he going to use it for?

"Oh- this is perfect." Arthur grinned. "Looks like you hid it well. Good job Princess." He wrapped an arm around my head and pulled me forward, planting a kiss on top of my hair. I jerked away in disgust but he'd already gone back to looking at the camera app.

A sudden thought struck me. Had the camera recorded me? If it did, that was infallible evidence that I'd committed a crime. Arthur could use it to blackmail me. Or worse, he could get me arrested, thrown into Arkham with him!

"I-Is that live?" I asked in a high strangled voice. So much for my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"We're looking at the live feed right now, but if we do this..." He tapped a few buttons. "We can see historical recordings. It only stores the data for twenty-four hours though." He began to scroll back through the history, lightly dragging his finger across the surface of my phone. "Oh look, there's you."

My heart dropped and I felt bile rise in my throat.

"M-me?"

"Just before the cop comes. You go out of the frame after that though..."

"Oh..." I breathed a sigh of relief. So none of it had been caught on camera? It still placed me at the scene of the crime... but hopefully my disguise helped with that.

"Let's see... nothing, nothing, nothing..." He swiped through the footage. "Nothing... oh, that's not ideal."

"What?" I snapped my head back to the screen.

The police officer was now in frame, bending over, searching through something. I squinted to see what it was before clapping a hand over my mouth.

My bag! My bag, which was not only full of incriminating evidence, but was surely covered in my DNA. Shit. This was it. I was going to jail.

_I'm going to jail._

"N-No... o-oh my god... n-no this can't be happening." My world was spinning. I pressed my palms against my temples in an attempt to keep my head straight but felt like I was falling over. "N-n-n-no I-I..."

Arthur watched me, a smirk playing around his lips. "Rookie mistake there Mi-mi"

"A-Are you kidding me?" I looked at him with incredulity, too distressed to figure out that he was just teasing me. "I _am_ a rookie Arthur! I don't do things like this! I'm a good person!"

"You just need practice. There's always next time."

"P... Practice?! Arthur, I'm telling you now: this is never happening again. You really think I would've done this if I'd had any choice?!"

"There's always a choice Mi-mi."

"Y-yeah, sure, I had the choice between- doing that and- and you killing my husband and everyone in this hospital! Is that really a choice Arthur?!"

He put a hand on my shoulder, more impatient than friendly. "Mi-mi, you really need to relax."

"Relax?! NO ARTHUR! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!" I screamed. "THEY'LL FIND ME AND PUT ME IN JAIL! I can't go to jail I-" I was beginning to hyperventilate, gasping in air harder and harder with each breath but still feeling as if I was suffocating. If I'd been more myself, if my life hadn't been gradually crumbling away the last few months, I probably would've been able to recognize that I was having a panic attack, but instead it consumed me. I sank to my knees, clutching my chest, shrill sobs racking my body. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, mixed with mascara and snot though I didn't give the slightest shit. I didn't give a shit about anything except the fact that my life was over in that moment. I sank to the floor in slow motion, no longer possessing the energy to hold my body up.

"Mia, shut up. Come here."

I shook my head, curling my knees into my chest, trembling.

"Mia, Do what I say or I'm going to get irritated."

"No." I didn't care if he got angry. I didn't care what he was going to do.

Arthur huffed in irritation. "This isn't so enjoyable anymore." He muttered, marching over to me. "Mi-mi, stand up." He latched his hand onto my upper arm and lifted. I wasn't sure of his intentions, but I definitely didn't expect him to push my head into his chest. He'd circled his arm around my neck, perhaps as some weird attempt at a hug. I squeaked in surprise, but it was muffled by the force that he pressed my face into him.

"W-Why did... why did you do this to me Arthur...?" I sobbed into his shoulder. "You... you've ruined my life."

"Hey, Mi-mi. Look at me."

He was pulling my face towards him but I fought viciously. I didn't want to look at him. I wanted him to cease to exist. "NO! Get off me!" I shook my head. "I-I don't want-"

"Trust me. Here." He took hold of my chin, squeezing my cheeks. His thumb reached up to my bottom lip, and, gently but with an impatient firmness, pulled it down to open my mouth slightly. He took the cigarette out of his own mouth, and slid it into my parted lips. Fairly immediately, he lit a new one for himself.

"I've never seen you just let it all out before. You're usually so controlled, you try so hard to be professional." He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Doesn't it feel good? Just to _feel?_"

I couldn't reply. I knew I should move, get out of this intimate position, but I couldn't find the energy. I decided to believe that it was just because I was exhausted, not because some part of me wanted to stay, comforted and protected in his embrace. My first instinct was to spit the cigarette out, but I didn't. It felt weirdly soothing. It gave me something to distract myself with; slowly inhaling and exhaling, the bitter taste a distraction from my bitter thoughts. I closed my eyes, breathing out a heavy cloud of smoke.

"Anyway, if you're really that worried I can probably take care of it." Arthur shrugged, with an inappropriate amount of nonchalance.

I looked up at him with wide eyes, not quite yet daring to hope. "T-Take care of it? You mean-"

"Maybe we can have your bag go missing from the evidence locker."

"A-Arthur you... you could do that? R-Really?" I resisted the urge to throw myself at his feet and beg. "...but... why would you help me?" I couldn't help being suspicious, everything he did seemed to have the purpose of causing me misery. Why would he help me out?

"If you go to jail what am I supposed to do in here? You're my only source of entertainment. Besides, I kinda like the idea of you owing me one." He grinned, and I didn't like the hidden meaning behind it. But what choice did I have? "Give me your phone again."

"W-Why?"

"Do you want me to help or not?"

"I- ... yes..." I nodded sheepishly and handed him my phone, watching with a mixture of desperation and curiosity as he dialed a number.

"Hey. It's Joker. Yeah. I need you to take care of something for me."

I wondered who he was talking to. Was it another criminal? What were they going to do? Would they hurt anyone to get the bag? Was I going to be responsible for the death of a police officer? God why did my mind always have to go to the worst possible scenario? I sat down, offering a bit of support for my trembling legs.

"Taken care of." Arthur held the phone out to me.

"A-Already?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, '_Are you doubting me?'._ I took the phone back, silently.

To this day I don't quite know the details of what Arthur did, but I watched the news like a hawk for weeks and didn't see any evidence of murder or even theft; nothing significant enough to be reported. And that night when I came home, it was to find my bag, exactly how I'd left it, sitting right on my doorstep.

* * *

The only way I seemed to be able to hold myself together following the bank incident was to pretend it never happened. There was no evidence of me ever being there; Arthur had taken care of that. It was all just a bad dream - at least that was what I repeated to myself over and over until I almost believed it. I was almost unrealistically cheery; it felt fake and sickly sweet but it was better than the alternative of facing everything that had happened. I still watched the news every day for any sign that I was in trouble but I didn't catch any mention of the break-in.

Arthur had been surprisingly docile - at least by his standard - and the weeks since were fairly uneventful. Uneventful? Is that really how I would describe it? Well, Arthur didn't send me on any more heists at least. Or any more errands at all for that matter. We just talked. I wondered if it was because he was feeling guilty after my breakdown, but quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way he cared. Arthur didn't feel guilt; this was just all part of his game. He had, however, decided that his new favorite position to sit and talk was face to face with me, my knees sandwiched between his - so our sessions were far from normal. I constantly lost my train of thought after being startled by his hand resting on my thigh, or his leg jiggling violently against mine. The second hand smoke that was wafted constantly into my face probably wasn't doing me any favors either. One time I'd tried to stand up under the guise of pacing back and forth but fairly immediately he pulled my back into my chair by a hard tug on my wrist. The force and slight error in angling tipped the chair and I fell over with it, sprawling over the top and landing in a heap at his feet. I didn't try again after that; it was less trouble to just put up with it.

There was a crowd forming when headed out of my office after lunch one Friday.

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked Helen.

"New patient." She explained, not taking her eyes off the spectacle. "A real doozy, needed _four_ orderlies and enough drugs to kill a horse to sedate him."

I stood on the balls of my feet to see over the people in front of me; four orderlies were dragging a beast of a man down the corridor, clearly struggling. It wasn't unusual for people to watch new patients come in; it was the one bit of entertainment they got. I'd always found it a bit barbaric, but still couldn't quell my curiosity.

"What did he do?"

"Where to start!" Helen had been fairly short with me since the morning I'd yelled at her to switch the appointments, but she couldn't resist her love of gossip. "So apparently he killed two police officers even though they shot him _four times _trying to defend themselves. So they took him to the emergency room - restrained of course - but he got free, killed the doctorwho was trying to _save_ him, almost escaped again before they had a whole SWAT team close in on him! How mad is that?"

"Jesus." I murmured, looking at my watch. "Oh I'm going to be late, better go." I hurried away from the scene, towards the patient rooms. Arthur was already inside.

"Hello Arthur."

He stood up as soon as I sat down; he always had to make a show of dragging his chair over to invade my personal space.

"No, Arthur, I want you to sit there today." I injected as much authority as I possibly could into my voice, though inside I was terrified.

Arthur ignored me of course, just looking amused at my attempt to tell him what to do.

"I was thinking." He rolled his cigarette between his fingers. "Maybe it's time for you to pay me back for fixing your little fuck-up at the bank."

I blinked. Honestly I'd thought he wasn't serious about me owing him. I hadn't been expecting him to call in a favor.

"What do you want?"

He leaned forward, putting his palms on the chair either side of me. "I can think of a few things." A smirk played around his lips.

"Arthur, I'm not playing your games-" I pushed on his chest in what I hoped was a firm gesture for him to sit back in his seat. "If you want a favor I want a real answer pl- hey!" I slid forward on my seat as he pulled on my waist, bringing me further into him.

"C'mon Mi-mi." His hands slid down to my hips. "You owe me."

"Arthur, if you're going to be difficult then- Arthur!" I shrieked at the sensation of a sharp pinch to my behind and stood up angrily. "Arthur, this incredibly inappropriate. If you don't stop this I'm going to have to end our session... early..." The authority disappeared from my voice as he stood up and stepped closer to me, staring down at me like a predator cornering its prey. "A-Arthur... I have to... insist..." I was backing away as I spoke, everything in my mind telling me I needed to put distance between the two of us ASAP.

I felt the cool hardness of the table hitting my butt. I stopped. Arthur didn't. He continued to advance, at some point placing his hands on the surface either side of me. I had to lean back to avoid my face being pressed into his chest, but my hips were still in contact with his and our stomachs touched.

"A-Arthur, stop-"

His lips were barely inches from mine, and a soft wave of tobacco wafted over me every few seconds. I wondered if he could feel me trembling. In an attempt to reduce the contact between us, I hopped back up onto the table so I was sitting on it, allowing me to scoot back and away from him. It was the wrong move though; he pushed my knees apart and pulled me forward again by the hips so my legs were hanging off the edge, held up only by him. I gasped at the feeling of his hands touching me so intimately, and he took the opportunity to position himself right between my thighs, pressing up against me so close that I could feel his heart beat. I pushed against him, disgusted by the position we were sharing, but his hands held fast just below my waist, keeping me stuck to him. He wasn't saying much; I assumed he'd have some kind of nasty comment, but his lips were sealed and his gaze was stoic. I wondered if it was because he didn't really know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but dismissed the thought. He was surely just messing with me as usual.

His crotch was pressed firmly in between my legs, something I was desperate to put an end to. I was momentarily distracted, however, when he hooked a finger under my chin, lifting my head so it was angled up towards him. He looked questioning, curious even. He twisted a hand into my hair and I think he intended it to be gentle, but it was clumsy and inexperienced, pulling too tight to be anything but painful. Then, a jolt of shock and horror shot down my spine when I felt something hard press between my legs.

"A-Arthur- get off me!" I threw my palms against him in revulsion, completely losing my cool and redoubling my efforts to wriggle away. And for some reason he let me go; I backed away, putting some distance and the table between us.

"Arthur... what the hell was that?" Was he just messing with me? Or was he... no, the thought was too stupid to even contemplate. I couldn't ignore the way he'd looked at me though; I'd never seen him even slightly unsure of himself; he was always so confident and deliberate with his actions. What did this mean?

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. I looked up at it, nervously.

"This conversation isn't over Arthur." I made my way to the door cautiously, careful not to turn my back to him. When I pulled it open, there was an orderly standing outside.

"Dr. Lawson? There's someone who needs to speak with you."

"Oh- uh... can it wait thirty minutes? I'm in the middle of a session." I needed to stay where I was and figure out what had just happened and make sure it _never _happened again.

The orderly looked uncomfortable. "Uh... Unfortunately not. It's pretty urgent."

"...Okay." I grimaced. "Arthur, I'll be right back, alright?"

I followed the man outside and down to my office, where another man with a thick mustache and glasses stood with his back to me. He turned as I entered and I noticed the police badge slapped over the bicep of his jacket.

"Dr. Lawson." He held out a hand. "I'm sorry for the intrusion. My name is Luitenant James Gordon."

"O-Oh hi... good to meet you officer. Um..." I struggled to remain calm, as if I had no clue why he could be here. "How can I help?"

_Oh god. They know it was me at the bank. They know I assaulted a police officer. They know I aided a robbery. He's here to arrest me. I-_

"Ah- well... I'm sorry, it's not easy for me to say this," Gordon's words interrupted my spiraling thoughts. "Unfortunately there's been an accident involving your husband, Ben..."

"Accident?" My mouth morphed into a weird half-smile half-frown as I processed his words; as soon as relief that I wasn't being arrested washed over me, it was followed by a much worse alternative that crashed down around me.

"Yes... He was attacked by a violent patient while working today."

_Attacked? Ben was attacked?_

"I'm afraid he didn't make it."

_He didn't make it?_

My vision went foggy and the words echoed in my head.

_"There's been an accident involving your husband..."_

_"I'm afraid he didn't make it."_

_"...he didn't make it."_

"Dr. Lawson?" I must've looked as though I was about to faint because Gordon reached out a hand to steady me, though I barely noticed. I was lost in a dark echo chamber of the painful truth of what he just said smashing into me repeatedly.

_He didn't make it_

_He didn't_

_make it_

He

didn't

make

it

...


	11. Chapter 11: Return

**Chapter 11: Return**

* * *

Two years had passed since the day Ben was killed. Two years... it was like two seconds in the time frame of losing a loved one; the pain still felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. It didn't really matter if it hadn't been a couple of days or a couple of years ago though, because I'd been entirely numb since it happened. It was like zero days had passed in terms of me actually living my life; I'd been pretty much on autopilot, not enjoying anything, sticking to the exact same routine, no goals, no desires. Nothing mattered to me anymore.

"Good morning Dr. Lawson." I smiled weakly at the overly friendly receptionist, unable to summon enough energy to reply. Or maybe I just didn't care to try. I'd started coming in very early, almost stupidly so, to avoid running into anyone else when I arrived. I didn't want to talk to any of the other doctors or nurses but they just tried so damn hard to be sociable. I wondered if I'd been like that... before. Maybe I'd irritated the shit out of everyone at Arkham. My footsteps echoed down the painfully clean halls as I walked to my office.

That horrible day, after Luitenant Gordon had told me the awful news, after I'd got enough of a grip on myself to stand - I'd left. Just left. The man who killed my husband was at Arkham; I'd seen him be brought in earlier that day, blissfully unaware what he'd done. How could I stay? With a constant reminder of my soulmate being taken away from me, to look in the eyes of the man who destroyed my life, every day? I couldn't. Besides, the main thing that kept me at Arkham was that I cared about my patients, but with that one horrifying sentence it was as though my ability to give a shit had just been turned off completely. So I disappeared. It was easy to transfer back to Brentwood having been a prior employee, and I did so quickly and silently, not even returning to retrieve my things. I knew I could never set foot in Arkham, ever again. Occasionally I wondered what became of that place and my patients, but it was generally a time of my life I preferred to think had never happened. I hadn't done any good there. I'd only made things worse; a destructive force wiping through the asylum, even causing the death of a patient. There was one exception to my total Arkham-censorship though; I couldn't stop myself thinking about Arthur Fleck. I supposed it was understandable; I'd never met anyone like him in my life before and he put me through... so much. But why did he enter my mind every day? At first I'd wondered if Ben's death had been Arthur's doing - but I'd decided it didn't make any sense; threatening my loved ones was the biggest piece of leverage Arthur had, surely he wouldn't throw it away for nothing? It also didn't seem like his style... no, how did I know what his style was? His style was to make me miserable, and this had certainly achieved that. Still, I resolutely believed that it wasn't Arthur who killed my husband.

I wondered what had happened to Arthur after I left. Had he been assigned another psychiatrist? How had they managed? Did they last more than one session? The conceited part of me liked to hope I was the only one who was able to somewhat handle him. The idea of someone else coming in and doing better than me, Arthur even liking them more, irritated me. I wondered if he cared that I left. I wondered if he even remembered me. Two years was definitely enough to cancel out the short six months we'd spent together. I felt angry every time I caught myself thinking about him again. Why did I bother? Why did I care? It literally didn't matter. Maybe he'd escaped. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was still there. It didn't affect me at all. _Let it go Mia. _I urged myself.

I had an answer however, two years and three days after I'd left Arkham. I saw Arthur on the news. I had a widescreen TV in my office (all the Doctors at Brentwood did) and I usually left it on in an attempt to drown out the miserable thoughts that ran repeatedly through my brain. Gotham24 was usually had a good monotone sound to run constantly in the background so it was a favorite of mine.

"_We are outside Gotham National Bank, which lies in rubble today as the place was robbed by what's reported as a bunch of guys in clown masks. Over to Tom for the report..."_

'Clown masks' was enough to turn my head, but I didn't think much of it. Every now and then people tried to emulate the message from the clown riots several years ago; they were usually independent thugs. However, my assumption was quickly corrected a few days later when a video showing "the Joker" was aired.

_"Hello Gotham." _

I recognized Arthur's voice instantly, and in some capacity it chilled me to the core but in a weird way it also _warmed_ me. It was like a weird reminder of my previous life, when I was happy, when Ben was alive; it was almost a pleasant familiarity. Arthur - or should I say _The Joker_ \- was interrogating a man dressed as Batman. Batman... the masked vigilante who'd been sweeping through Gotham, disciplining criminals... It seemed stupid to me. Did Batman really think he could fix Gotham and all of the horrible shit that happened within it? If you asked me, he was wasting his time. Gotham was beyond repair.

_"Tell them your name." _

The Joker's voice was commanding, but with a hint of amusement as usual.

_"...Brian Douglas." _

_"And are you the real Batman?" _

_"No."_

_"So why do you dress up like him?"_

_"He's a symbol... that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you..."_

I felt a rare surge of emotion, specifically guilt. This man was going to die; I knew Arthur well enough to know that. He was going to die because Arthur escaped from Arkham. An escape that I made easy for him. The remorse I felt quickly flickered out however; I didn't know this man, and I didn't feel anything for him. Arthur would've got out without my help anyway.

_"This is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go. So...Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't... people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word."_

I snapped my gaze away from the screen. I'd always expected him to break out; honestly I didn't doubt for a second his ability to do so. I'd have guessed he'd do it sooner, but it was difficult to know with him. For a moment my curiosity was peaked. Would Batman reveal himself? What would the Joker do if he did?

And then I stopped caring again.

* * *

I had to take the subway to and from work; I lived a little further away than I had before and I didn't really have the energy to walk. I preferred to just... sit. I'd moved out of the house I shared with Ben as soon as I'd been able to stop crying for more than an hour - I didn't want to be anywhere near there ever again. I liked the subway. Nobody was friendly. People didn't bother you - they just kept to themselves. I could stare at the ground dully, listening to the same short playlist over and over until I'd ridden the ten stops to my neighborhood. That night the train was quieter than usual; there were only a few others riding with me.

I glanced up from my lap for just a second, and my mouth dropped open in a mixture of horror and surprise. I let out a choked gasp. In the window, on the platform was- wait. I blinked. There was... nobody there. I could've sworn I'd seen... Arthur... his face paint was hard to miss. But no, I'd just been thinking about him - I was tired, hallucinating. Perhaps it was just an optical illusion from someone else's reflection. Still, I craned my neck to look into the next carriage, thinking he could've jumped on before I'd properly registered what I saw. It was empty aside from a young man in a suit, fully absorbed in his music player.

I dropped my bag in the hall of my small apartment with little enthusiasm. I could've afforded something better, but I didn't want it. I didn't have any use for fancy things amenities; as _if_ I was going to use an in-complex gym or a swimming pool. Larger places had too much excess space and just made me feel lonely. All I could deal with was a small, plain corner unit. A couch, a TV and a super basic kitchenette. Honestly I could've done with just a microwave and mini fridge; I only ate when the pain of hunger outweighed the pain I felt in my heart, and that wasn't often.

I threw the mail I'd picked up on the counter. It topped a slowly mounting pile of unread bills, letters, ads, other stuff I didn't care about. I uncorked a cheap bottle of white wine. _Shit. No clean glasses._ With a shrug to myself, I lifted the bottle to my lips and plopped down in front of the TV. This was part of my autopilot routine; pop some xanax and drink until I pass out on the couch, wake up with a stiff neck at 5am and drag myself into the shower, go to work. No changes. No deviation. Even the same brand of wine from the same shelf in the same grocery store. I hadn't tried anything different, and I didn't want to try anything different. I didn't want to think about why or how I should try to fix myself. I just wanted to trudge on, hoping at some point I would just stop existing. Hoping one of the times I just wouldn't wake up.

Nothing diverged from my normal schedule that night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That is, until I woke up and I wasn't in my own bed.


	12. Chapter 12: Joker

**Chapter 12: Joker**

* * *

I woke up gradually, feeling more refreshed than I usually did. It didn't feel like 5am, and I hadn't heard my alarm going. _Shit did I forget to set it? _I wasn't in the mood to commute with the thousands of other Gotham-ites, I didn't want to squeeze onto the subway in rush hour, toe to toe with a creepy old man or someone who felt the need to fart at every stop.

I cracked an eye open reluctantly. The longer I waited, the worse it would get. Maybe it wasn't as late as I thought? The light that zapped my retinas told me otherwise.

_...wait a sec..._

I sat up with a jolt. This wasn't my bedroom. This wasn't anywhere I recognized.

_What the... where am I?_

I knew it was risky mixing Xanax and alcohol; memory loss was a common side effect. Sure, sometimes I forgot the dull details of my night in front of the TV but I'd never woken up in the wrong bed before. Had I ventured outside? Gone to a bar and met someone? A horrific thought struck me. Was this a one night stand?

I heard some clattering and realized there was definitely someone in one of the other rooms. I looked around in panic. Should I hide under the bed until they left? Maybe jump out the window?

_No, calm the fuck down Mia._

I should just go out and politely explain that I had to leave. They couldn't _make_ me stay for breakfast. Who cared if it was awkward?

_Okay. Here we go. _I took a deep breath and headed down the hallway.

"Um... sorry, excuse me... I-" I stopped in my tracks as I reached the doorway.

Slumped casually at the table of the open concept kitchen, cigarette balanced haphazardly in his mouth, was Arthur Fleck. His eyes, framed in those familiar blue triangles, shone in my direction, matching the insanity of his wide, red, painted-on smile. He was dressed brightly, with a poorly fitted red suit that clashed spectacularly with his green shirt and yellow vest. The pant legs were too short, and I could see his white socks pulled over his ankles underneath. He was as tall and bony as I remembered him, though looked a little different not wearing his usual white Arkham scrubs.

"...Arthur..." I breathed, in absolute disbelief.

A heavy set scowl formed around the white stick in his mouth as his eyes landed on me. He was glaring at me with almost a physical force that made me recoil. His eyes seemed so full of a hatred I'd never seen before. His dirty green hair seemed to be shaking from the intensity of his anger.

"A-Arthur... are you alright...?" It was weird how quickly I fell into old patterns, my bedside manner surfacing immediately. It was like I hadn't been away at all; we could've been right back in the observation room.

One second I'd seen him stand up and the next he was right in front of me, having marched over to where I was standing. I attempted to back up but my reactions were far too slow; he hit me in the face, not with a closed fist but hard enough to split my lip and draw blood from my nose. I gasped in pain and stumbled back, tripping on the skirting board and almost losing my balance. I reached up to touch my lips with a trembling hand, wincing at the sting of my fingers agitating the wound. Arthur's eyes were blazing but he seemed unable to speak, just staring at me with rage. I felt the back of my head hit the wall as he stepped forward and wrapped a hand around my neck.

"A-Ack-— Ngrthr-" He was suddenly pressing on my windpipe so hard that I could barely speak. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to choke me but this felt different, so much more _vicious_. Usually it just seemed like his intent was just to scare me but now... it felt like he was trying to kill me. I pulled at his fingers but there was no chance of me breaking his grip; it was like a vice.

"Nngg... Nugthr..." I repeated, trying desperately to get air. "Plea- ...se..."

My eyes widened as his hand pressed upward into the underside of my jaw, and I realized in horror he was trying to lift me off the ground. "Ngghh- Ar- Ugh- Ar- Thur..." I couldn't breathe. I don't think I'd had access to oxygen for over a minute. I thought I heard my spinal cord crack and my toes were now barely touching the floor. This was it. I was going to die. Shouldn't I be okay with that? Isn't that what I wanted, just a quick end to my miserable existence?

And then he dropped me.

The ground rushed up to meet my head and the thump reverberated through my entire body when I hit the floor. I massaged my sore throat; it still felt like his hands were wrapped around it and I needed to check myself to really believe that they weren't. Arthur stood towering over me as I struggled to gulp down some air.

"Mia..." It was a while before he spoke. He was now pacing back and forth.

"Arthur..." My breathing was audible; it sounded croaky, like I had a tube down my throat. "A-Arthur... what am I doing here? Where am I?"

"I brought you here." He stated, still pacing.

"...O... ok... w-why?"

He didn't answer. It seemed like he didn't really know either.

"A-Arthur."

"I didn't even think you'd remember my name." He hissed at me, wheeling around, suddenly confrontational again. "After you _abandoned _me I thought you'd just forgotten about my existence entirely." He gripped my shoulders.

_Abandoned him?_

Panic shot through me. He thought I'd abandoned him? I knew he didn't think too kindly of people who did so. Images of Noah, bleeding an mutilated on the ground, flashed through my mind.

"From the look on your face I can tell that you missed me." He grinned, but the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. He shook me slightly as if trying to get me to nod. My head just jostled around limply as I stared into space. "I was very upset when you left." He moved his hands to my jaw, gripping tightly. "Hey. Look at me." He dragged my face towards him before continuing. "I didn't even get a goodbye or an explanation." His thumbs were pressing into the fleshy part under my jawbone and I tried to focus on anything but the pain but it pushed its way to the front of my mind with every breath and every swallow. "After all that time we spent together... it made me wonder if you ever even cared." He shook me again. "If you meant, anything, _anything you said..." _he was spitting the words now - his face contorted with anger - and I croaked at the increase in pressure.

"A-Arthur... I'm so sorry... I got transferred." I mumbled, not sure that any explanation would satisfy his fury. "It wasn't personal... they... they didn't need me a-any more."

It was maybe a quarter true. I _was _transferred, even if it was because I'd begged to be.

"You know what I always liked about you Mia?" He squeezed my cheekbones so hard I was afraid my face would cave in. "You never lied to me. Or at least I thought so." He wound a hand into my hair and hoisted my ear towards his mouth as I blinked away tears, scrunching my face up to try and make sense of all the pain stimuli. "You always seemed so _truthful, _so _wholesome. _I didn't think you lied to me like everyone else did._" _His face drew close. "But I know you're lying to me right now... so maybe you were the whole fucking time?" His fist tightened and he brushed his other hand down my throat, as if resisting the urge to strangle me once more. "Maybe we can try this again and you'll tell me what actually happened?"

"A-Arthur I... I'm sorry." I decided to be honest despite my fear. "I-I'm sorry I left you... I just..." I swallowed hard and attempted to pull his hand away. "I couldn't come back... I just-"

"Just what?" His palm pressed into my neck. "Didn't give a fuck about your patients anymore?"

"N-No that's not it... I just..." He was pulling so hard on my hair I thought I was going to be bald by the end of our altercation. "Arthur... my husband was killed. And his murderer... they were sent to Arkham." I desperately hoped he would understand. "I couldn't stay, I-I just couldn't. I'm sorry." I blinked away the beginning of tears, trying desperately not to think of Ben.

Arthur paused, before beginning to laugh.

"Couldn't? That's definitely not true Mi-mi. I know you're stronger than that." He let me go suddenly and took a long, deep drag of his cigarette. "You could've come back if you really wanted to."

He sat down, bouncing his knee in his typical rapid-fidget pattern while he sucked more smoke into his mouth.

"Arthur... Please forgive me..." I ventured, wiping blood from my nose.

"You want me to forgive you? Because you're _sorry_? Or just because you want me to let you go?" He threw me a look of what I was sure was disgust and I was so taken aback that I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle an unwise retort. He had the audacity to be disgusted at _me_?

I swallowed my anger. "D-Did you bring me here to kill me?"

He flicked a finished cigarette into the corner. "No."

"O-Oh... then-"

"I was actually going to kill you last night, at your apartment."

"Y-you were at my apartment?" I stifled a gasp with my hand.

"I saw you on the subway." He chewed his lip. "I was actually in the middle of doing something important but I followed you instead." He glared at me as if that was my fault. "I followed you home. I was going to slit your throat while you sat in front of the TV."

I swallowed hard, shivering at how casually he was saying these things. "S-so... so why didn't you?"

He stared into space, his cigarette paused an inch from his mouth. "I don't know." His other hand fumbled in a pocket and he pulled out a delicate silver switchblade. Caressing the stainless steel handle, he looked back at me. "I still could."

I took a step back, driven by my instincts and the sight of the knife. It was strange - all this time I'd thought I _wanted_ to die, wanted to just stop existing so I didn't have to live everyday with nothing but grief. But it was this moment, with the idea of an imminent death presented to me, that I realized I really _didn't_ want to die. There must've been some tiny part of me, deep inside, that thought I could salvage my shitshow of a life and get something out of it. I think that's what drew out the terror, and the sudden desire to throw myself at Arthur's feet and beg for his mercy. As I backed away in silence, I realized that that day I'd felt the most emotion I'd felt in almost two years.

Arthur stood, and followed me to the corner, flipping the knife open and closed with a nonchalant smirk. His eyes glinted almost as much as the silver blade. As he reached me he laughed, but stopped abruptly and pressed his forehead against mine. I could feel the brows of his expressive face move as he spoke.

"Mia... after you left me... I went off the rails for a while. Well-" He paused. "_More _off the rails than usual I guess. I was so... _mad. _Just furious that you could do that, that you could be so _cold." _His face suddenly looked absolutely irate and I shrank back in terror. "I wanted payback_." _He brought the knife back into view again, tracing my orbital bone with its tip. "I wanted you to _hurt. _But you were gone so long... and I had things to do, so... I let it go."

I moaned weakly as the blade pressed a little too firmly into my lower eyelid. I struggled against his grip furiously but he could hold me in place with a single hand over my mouth, muffling my cries at the same time.

"Shh Mi-mi." He soothed, continuing to press with the knife tip, which was becoming wet with tears. I wasn't sure if it was a good sign he'd started using my nickname again.

"I let it go. Or I _thought _I did. But then I saw you... and in the moment I just felt angry all over again."

"N-No... Arthur..." I gasped as the pressure increased. "Don-" My words turned into a strangled cry of pain as he sliced into my cheek. It was a shallow cut but the fine blade of the knife created a sharp sting and my face already felt battered from when he'd hit me. "Arthur! S-stop... please... I-I-I'm sorry I l-left!" I sobbed, clinging onto his arm. "Please don't- please stop..." I felt a dribble of blood hit my mouth, mingling with the already crusty, drying gash on my lip.

"You know, it was funny... When I was sitting, watching you in your apartment... I kept telling myself to kill you, just to jump out and slice your jugular and spill your blood all over the couch. But I couldn't." He rand a hand over my skin, from my forehead to my chin, smearing the blood further across my face. "And then you passed out. So for some reason I brought you here."

He let go suddenly, beginning to pace back and forth as he twiddled the knife between his fingers. He lit a fresh cigarette and frowned.

"Why did I bring you here?"

I closed my eyes. Why was he asking me? I was more clueless in this situation than he was.

"Ugh." He stretched, with a casual elegance before sitting down at the table once more. "Aren't you supposed to be a psychiatrist Mi-mi? Can't you tell me what I'm feeling?"

"I-I..." Sure, that _was_ supposed to be my job. But every time I thought I'd deciphered him he threw such a curve ball that it completely circled me. I had no clue what was going on in his head.

We stood in silence for a while, him, puffing on his cigarette, and me, just shaking. I wanted to pull myself together. I wanted to be the strong person he seemed to think I was. I also wanted my feet to move and head towards the door. I definitely wasn't going to get out of this situation with fear and tears.

"Arthur... a-are... are you still angry?" I asked because he seemed to have settled down, his brows no longer knitted together quite so tightly.

He looked at me. "What do you think Mi-mi? Should I be?"

Well, should he be? My immediate thought was _of course not, _but I forced myself to really think about it. Was it his fault how naive I'd been? Was it his fault how I'd failed to follow procedure because of my own ego? Was it his fault that I hadn't noticed the unhealthy dependency on me he'd developed, when that was a huge part of my job?

I stood up. It took a non-trivial amount of effort to order my feet to move, towards the irrational man holding the sharp knife, but I did approach him, slowly. I gently placed my hand over his, trying not to flinch and ruin the sincerity of it.

"Arthur... I screwed up... and... I'm so sorry." And I really was sorry. I'd royally fucked up my job, and the care I was supposed to provide for him. It didn't matter how he'd treated me, it was what I'd signed up for by going to Arkham. It didn't matter whether or not he'd done terrible things - I'd still failed him. And maybe that was why he did terrible things: because everyone in his life failed him. I'd insisted that I was different and then proved that I was just like everyone else.

Arthur looked to the left of me, touching his tongue to the corners of his mouth and sucking his lip in contemplation.

I removed my hand. "I'm also really sorry about this."

Lifting the knife that I'd palmed off the counter in a moment that he was distracted, I brought the point down with as much force as I could into the back of his hand. The blade made it all the way through his palm and into the wooden table with relative ease, and for a moment I stood amazed at how little work it had made of all that bone, muscle and flesh.

Arthur jumped but he didn't scream or yell, and for a second he just stared at the knife handle sticking out of his hand. But then he started laughing.

Shit, did I really just do that? Impale somebody's hand with a knife? Was I going crazy?

_No, you're just trying to leave here with your life. Go for the fucking door already! _

Shit. I turned swiftly, searching for the way out. It was a small apartment, so it wasn't difficult; the hallway that I'd come through to get to the kitchen also led straight to the front door. I ran towards it, almost tripping over myself in my haste and started fumbling with the lock. I slid open the security chain and twisted the latch, but then-

_Shit! _

I realized there was a gigantic padlock attached to the deadbolt at the top of the door. A padlock that was definitely too difficult to break, and needed a key. Shit. I heard Arthur moving around and I knew I didn't have much time. Did he put the key somewhere? Maybe in the kitchen? A heavy rock of dread fell in my stomach as I realized I had to go back - it was my only chance.

Arthur seemed to have just been waiting for me to realize I couldn't get out, he was laughing again, watching me sneak back into the kitchen, with his hand still impaled and bleeding profusely. With apparent enjoyment, grinning straight at me, he yanked the knife out of his hand. I watched with horror as he tossed it onto the counter before sauntering towards me. He walked slowly, teasingly, knowing full well that I had nowhere to go. I just had to watch as my impending doom closed in on me.

"Oh Mi-mi..." Arthur smirked. "You're always so fun to be around. I never know what to expect. Hey. Come here." I tried to jerk away as he reached for me but his hand snaked around and gripped the back of my neck and it became easy for him to pull me into his embrace.

"Arthur... please let me go..." I whispered, as a last ditch attempt trying to appeal to his merciful side. If he had one.

"What's so terrible about staying here with me?" He pressed my head into his chest. "Do I scare you?"

I didn't answer, and instead, with a grunt, I drove my knee up as hard as I possibly could into his groin.

"Ugh- oof!" He wheezed, doubling up a little and cupping his hands over his balls. At least I'd caused him some pain. However he quickly began laughing again. "A little fight in you Mi-mi? Now we're talking!"

Shit. Was there anything I could do? I could already see out of the windows that we were way too high up for me to jump out. Most apartments didn't have a back door. Maybe one of the rooms had a balcony and I could use to climb to the next apartment over?

I didn't have a chance to find out however, as Arthur grabbed my ankle in a calculated maneuver that sent me crashing to the ground.

"N-No! Arthur get off me-" I rolled over violently but he clambered over my thrashing legs and braced his arm across my chest, pinning me down and preventing further movement of my arms. So I headbutted him. And I'd never headbutted anyone before so I obviously didn't have the technique right, and didn't achieve much aside from splitting a gash across my own forehead. Arthur seemed to find this all the more amusing, and as my head span with stars bursting in front of my eyes, he pulled me upright and pushed me into the wall by my shoulders with a grin. We both stood there, panting slightly.

His eyes were level with mine and barely an inch away; I felt like I was going to be drawn into the depths of his intense stare.

"Arth-"

He squeezed my cheeks together, cutting off my words.

"Something is still bothering me." He murmured, before letting me go entirely. I almost collapsed down the wall, having been held up entirely by his strong grip and not expecting it to be released so quickly. I breathed heavily as Arthur stretched and sighed in frustration, both hands on the back of his neck.

"Maybe I should carve your face up a little." He suggested.

"...Don't." I squeaked.

In a moment of clear uncertainty, he took a couple of steps towards me before turning and walking the short distance back to the table. Almost instantaneously though, he turned again and stalked towards me once more. The way he spun around, the way his feet tripped effortlessly over each other, had an elegant movement to it as if he was a dancer. The second time he approached me I could almost feel the cloud of menace surrounding him, and there was a look in his eye that made me think he was going to hit me again. I shut my eyes to brace for impact, but instead what I felt was Arthur's hands sliding under my ears, holding my head in place. I blinked up at him in confusion, having expected pain and violence, but was instead met with a curious stare. And then, his mouth pressed down on mine.


	13. Chapter 13: Siege

**Chapter 13: Siege**

* * *

My eyes widened in shock. Arthur's lips felt greasy and cold and they pressed into mine with such force that I wouldn't have been able to stay upright without his hands holding me in place. In fact his palms pushing on the back of my head only further crushed our faces together so that there wasn't a millimeter of space between us. I was too surprised initially to do anything, and in all honesty I thought he'd stop as soon as he really realized what he was doing.

How wrong I was; Arthur did pull back for a second but from the look on his face I could tell it was just for a moment of reflection, like he'd just figured something out. When his mouth crashed back down on mine it was with such a renewed energy that we both stumbled back into the wall, though his lips didn't lose contact with mine for a second. His hands cradled the back of my head with a ravenous kind of insistence. Now there wasn't just a smell of tobacco; I could taste it too, like ashes on my tongue. It didn't feel like what I knew a kiss to be; it was too hard, too cold and forced, and it stung when his pressure moved across my split lip.

"Mmphh... mr-thur- what are you- what are you doing?" The words were pulled out of me by pure panic, and it was a struggle to speak clearly with my mouth so completely occupied. My mind desperately attempted to get a handle on why on earth this was happening; this was so far beyond established norms that I just couldn't decipher the intent. Why was he doing this? What made him think he had the right to touch me so familiarly and intimately? Why did he _want_ to? I felt like he was stealing from me the only thing he had left to take.

His hands dropped to my hips, and braced against them, one thumb in front and fingers curling behind; they were the perfect size for him to use as neat little handles and he pulled forwards on them, increasing the contact between our bodies to such an extent that I was all of a sudden much more familiar with the shape and feel of his torso than I ever knew I'd be. I wasn't sure if my breath catching in my throat was from shock or just the pressure of him against me.

It was with such determination that he tore into me that I knew escape was futile, though it didn't stop me from trying. I had little success. After what seemed like an age, he let me come up for air but he still maintained a possessive grip on my hair.

Too many questions were all vying to be asked at once; I choked on them all and only managed a few gurgling sounds of disbelief. Nobody had done more than shake my hand - let alone kiss me - since Ben had died, and as Arthur's lips replaced my memories of my husband's it felt like Ben was being ripped away from me all over again. I noticed there were tears streaming down my cheeks but instead of a sob what came out of my mouth was a desperate plea. "Arthur... wha- why...?"

In lieu of an explanation, Arthur just bit his lip mischievously and smirked at me. His facial expression told me everything: _I wanted to do it so I did._

Was he toying with me as usual? Just showing me there was nothing he couldn't help himself to? Was there some deeper meaning to this or was I just falling for his manipulation as usual? I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, both physically and in my mind, but I was also scared to leave without figuring out what the hell this was about. It was like I was on some hidden camera show and was just waiting for someone to jump out and reveal this whole thing was a prank. I'd been feeling like that a lot lately. I somewhat wished my whole life had been a prank and I could just start over.

I must've shown some intent to run away again, since Arthur's hand returned to my neck, closing slowly around the front. He didn't exert enough force to choke me; it was just to hold me in place in front of him.

"Arthur." I whispered. "This isn't funny. Stop."

He wasn't listening to me even though he was staring at my mouth as I spoke. He had an almost a curious look on his face, and his head was tilted nearly imperceptibly to the side.

"Arthur." I repeated. "I-" His lips hit mine again and he took advantage of the moment by thrusting his tongue into my mid-sentence mouth, pushing my head harder against the wall. It wasn't just cold this time; there was heat enveloping from his lips and his hot breath mingled with mine to the point where I didn't know whose was whose. His tongue forced its way greedily towards my uvula, slippery across my teeth and jamming into the top and sides of my mouth.

I pushed on his chest with redoubled determination and disgust, wriggling hard under his forearm that was pushed into my ribs. I wasn't making any headway in getting away from him and in fact my movement was just rubbing our bodies together in even more inappropriate ways.

"Mia..." He paused to readjust my torso against his. "Put some effort into it huh?" His thumb trailed over my bottom lip and pulled it open into a pout. "Show me what you can do with that mouth."

His words were enough to give me the presence of mind to struggle harder, to actually fight for my life like I should've been all along. Despite Arthur's strength, as a human being he still had a soft, fleshy tongue and I knew when I bit down on it, it would hurt. I did so. Hard.

Arthur grunted, but soon began laughing into my mouth, making it vibrate. More than anything he seemed entertained by my attempt to fight back and I should've expected as much. Despite trying to clench my teeth firmly together he was able to shove his bleeding appendage even further towards my throat. The rusty taste of blood mixed with ash. Our tongues battled fiercely; I just wanted to push his out but I was afraid it was going to come across as me playing along. I tried to bite down again but with a painful pinch he pressed his thumb and forefinger into my cheek just in front of the joint of my top and bottom jaw, keeping it jacked open.

"Mpphh-" A well placed shove actually gave me a bit of breathing room; Arthur had been leaning into me so much that his balance was somewhat fragile. "Get off me!" I took the opportunity to yell and with the extra space between us was able to bring my knee into his groin again. Before I could strike his weakest point however, he squeezed his legs together, trapping mine just between his thighs. I hadn't really been expecting to be on one leg for more than a couple of seconds so hadn't readjusted my balance; with my other leg off the ground I didn't have the means to hold myself up. Unfortunately it seemed that Arthur hadn't planned ahead either, and his center of gravity wasn't prepared for my added weight clinging on to him. We fell awkwardly. Even though it wasn't intentional Arthur didn't seem to care - if anything he leaned into it. My head bounced against the plaster and we landed uncomfortably wedged into a corner beside the couch. Arthur was on top, and took the opportunity to straddle me, both of his lean legs sitting either side of my hips. As he towered above me I could see patches of skin through his makeup around his lips and nose, as if it had been wiped off by something. The blue triangle below his right eye was dragged down at bottom point, a long streak that extended into the red smile around his mouth. With a jolt of horror I realized he must have smeared it all over my face when he kissed me.

Just then, he pulled off his jacket and vest with such impatience that he nearly tore them at the seams, throwing them across the room with aplomb. He slid his hands over my shoulders and his fingers curled into my flesh, sharp and hard, almost as if he was trying to pry the intimacy from me. I thrashed underneath him, but he was too heavy to allow much movement and he caught my flailing wrists with one hand.

A tinkling sound seemed to be making light of the situation, making fun of me - but then from the vibration in his back pocket I realized it was his phone. He noticed this too, and paused, holding my arms down as he reached for the device.

"Yes?" He answered sharply, with the annoyance of a man interrupted. "This better be good."

I wriggled harder while he was distracted, thinking this might be my best chance, but he restrained me with ease, his wide palm closing around my wrists without even looking in my direction. He listened for a few seconds before responding. "...Fine. Be right there." He terminated the call and threw the device back into his pants, looking angry.

_He said be right there. He's leaving._

I clung to those words desperately as he suddenly collapsed onto me, shifting down so his head laid just below my chin. The side of his face rested on my breasts and I could feel his quick breaths skirting over the surface.

"What awful timing." He muttered, and I felt his diaphragm heave in and out as he gave a heavy sigh.

_Maybe for him. Saved by the bell for me._

I waited, frozen, for him to get off me. It was a good minute and I could've sworn I heard him breathing in my scent repeatedly as if trying to save some to take with him. When he finally stood up, I stayed motionless, fearing that if I moved he'd change his mind. To my relief he pulled his jacket back on, businesslike once more, and I dared to sit up. I noticed I was panting.

"As much as I want to stay and see where this goes," he explained, "I have some important things to do." He stood over me once more and reached down, closing his hand around my wrist and pulling me upright. "I'm going to have to lock you in the bedroom while I'm gone."

"You can leave me out here... I promise I won't try to escape." The words sounded ridiculous coming out of my mouth and we both knew it was a lie. He laughed.

Begrudgingly, I let him steer me back down the hall to the room I'd woken up in. Before closing the door, he briefly took hold of my jaw, pulling it up towards him so that if I looked straight, I'd have to look him right in the eye. I looked to the side defiantly.

"Make yourself at home while I'm gone." He paused and grinned. "Though maybe don't get _too_ comfortable without me."

* * *

The door was locked from the outside with the thick padlock that had thwarted me earlier. I'd heard it thump, metal against the wood just before he left. I wondered how long he'd be gone. Then I chastised myself for thinking about anything besides getting out of this room.

I'd seen PSAs or read random articles online or something - in the back of my mind I knew that the way to knock down a door was to kick near the lock rather than in the middle. I tried, I really did. Over and over I kicked that damn door; near the lock, away from the lock, with the heel of my foot and with the toe, even ramming into it with my shoulder a few times. It didn't budge. Perhaps this advice didn't apply when there was a fucking beast of a padlock instead of just a simple latch.

I knew I'd been beat. My feet and shoulders ached. I sat on the floor against the bed, grumpily pushing my head into the mattress. My mind turned to what had just happened.

A kiss? Really? What the fuck was that about? And before his phone rang, when he was sitting on me - it seemed like he was planning to... I shuddered. _Don't even go there. _That was something I did _not_ want to think about. If he was trying to mess with my head it was definitely working. I was sure that was what he was doing, but why this new twist? Maybe he just wanted to show me that he could really do whatever he liked. Show me that _he_ was the one in control here, and he could take anything he wanted to.

I looked around properly for the first time. I'd always sort of wondered where Arthur would've lived if he wasn't in Arkham. This definitely wasn't how I imagined his living quarters... it was too... _nice. _Everything was nicely furnished, with the sort of finishing touches that definitely came from Homegoods or Pier 1 Imports. There were photo frames with pictures of - I squinted. _Hang on a second..._

There was a picture on the bedside table, and was of a normal looking couple. Definitely not Arthur. I glanced around. There, on the wall - a different picture of the _same_ couple! I dashed to the wardrobe, pulling it open. Womens clothes. Mens clothes. Normal sweaters and jeans, no ill fitting red suits or yellow vests. This wasn't Arthur's apartment. It looked like it belonged to a couple around my age.

What had happened to this couple? Had... had Arthur killed them just to make use of the shelter? The thought made me feel sick to my stomach, and I was reluctant to touch anything as there was a distinct possibility it was all now evidence in a murder case. I laid on the bed awkwardly, wanting to only get minimal comfort from things that were potentially taken by force.

However, my resolve wilted as hunger began to set in. Nine hours and fourty-three minutes after Arthur had left (I was painfully aware of the time since staring at the clock on the wall was one of the few things I had to do) I could think of nothing much else aside from every morsel of food id ever eaten. Burgers... grilled cheese... a chocolate cake... hot soup... even vegetables were making me drool at this point.

Thirteen hours and twelve minutes in, I'd lost any reservations I originally had with touching the owners stuff. I began rooting around the drawers, under the bed, behind the cupboards, anywhere someone could have hidden or accidentally dropped food. Eventually I had all but torn the room apart, desperate for just a tiny crumb of sustenance, but found nothing.

At some point sleep took me. It was brief and of poor quality due to the pangs of hunger that gnawed at my stomach, but it killed four or five hours of time which was better than nothing.

_Where is he?_ I thought angrily. _Why isn't he back yet? Did he leave me here?_

And suddenly the thought that he had gone, that he'd left me entirely, was more horrifying than him kidnapping me in the first place. I just wanted to see his stupid face opening the door and letting me out.

My thoughts were beginning to return to the idea of shimmying down the side of the building when I finally heard the front door slam. There was a thunk as the padlock was released, before the door swung open.


	14. Chapter 14: Clean

**Chapter 14: Clean**

* * *

I couldn't think of anything except the pain of my stomach eating itself, and the moment the door opened I was in the doorway, clutching the front of Arthur's vest.

"Arthur where have you been?!" He raised a painted eyebrow as I accosted him. "I'm so hungry!" I pushed past him and to my surprise he didn't stop me: he must've been able to tell I only had eyes for the kitchen.

"Sorry Princess. Business took longer than I thought."

I wasn't listening anymore. My eyes were wide, searching as I threw open the fridge. It was empty aside from some jars and a stick of butter. Nothing fresh or substantial. I turned my attention to the cupboards, desperate for something. Bread! I snatched it, all but tearing open the package and stuffing slices into my mouth ravenously. My mouth gummed up with thick mouthfuls of starch and I struggled to chew it fast enough but it eventually slid down my throat, glorious calories. I truly couldn't remember the last time I'd even wanted food, let alone enjoyed it so much.

Arthur had lit a cigarette, and was tinkering with something at the kitchen table. Wires and electronics. I didn't stop to see what it was because I had some suspicions, and didn't want to confirm them because they weren't good.

My stomach growled at me and I realised I was still hungry. The bread was good, but I wanted something more, something hot and hearty. I rooted around the cupboard again, pulling out a package of bowtie pasta. A vision of piping hot, saucy, cheesy pasta popped into my head and I found myself actually drooling as I searched for a saucepan. With a lot of clanging of pans and excited spilling of ingredients I made my meal. One of the jars in the fridge contained pasta sauce and I even found a nearly demolished block of parmesan in the back of one of the fridge drawers.

My eyes boggled slightly at how much my hungry stomach had thought was the appropriate amount - it could easily fill four bowls. The bread had settled slightly and I was feeling more rational; I knew I'd only be able to eat one and a half at best. I could probably save the rest... or... I glanced over my shoulder at Arthur, who was still preoccupied. How often did he eat? Did he eat anything decent? _No, why should I care? _Well what did it hurt to make sure I was on his good side?

"Here." I placed a second bowl in front of him as I sat down at the table. I sat sort of diagonally from him, not wanting to sit next to him but not wanting to be exactly opposite either. His eyes reluctantly pulled away from his project.

"In case you're hungry." I mumbled, feeling stupider by the minute.

His gaze flicked to me, lingering for a second before he returned his attention to the mass of wires and metal under his hands.

I felt myself going slightly red and stuffed a mouthful of pasta into my mouth as if it would help. The hot sauce seared my mouth. So he didn't want it? Fine. What did I care. It was a stupid gesture in the first place. I felt so awkward eating in front of him when he was clearly trying to concentrate. Why did I sit with him at the table?! I should've just eaten it standing up. I scarfed the rest down quickly, excusing myself to load it in to the dishwasher.

Since I no longer felt like my stomach was tying itself in knots, my mind returned to the situation at hand, and my other senses began to bother me. I hadn't washed in probably 48 hours, and among the blood, dried and crusty on my lips, nose and forehead, dust and dirt from our scuffles on the ground, and just the feeling of Arthur touching me - I felt dirty. So dirty. I was suddenly desperate for a shower, as desperate as I'd been to eat just moments prior. There was no reason why I couldn't just take one... right? Arthur still seemed pretty occupied.

"I-I'm going to take a shower." I announced. Arthur's eyes flicked to me briefly but soon returned to his task, and I took that as approval.

I checked the bathroom for towels; there was a full cupboard of them just outside and I selected the biggest. I triple-checked the lock behind me after closing the door - I wasn't having anyone _accidentally_ walk in on me. When I hopped under the shower head I was overwhelmed by the glorious hot jet of water that pounded my skin, searing away all the dirt and grime and memories. My lip and forehead stung but it was a good sting as I knew I was getting clean. I was in the shower for a good 20 minutes, and even then I was reluctant to get out; it was like under the water my problems didn't exist, I was just warm and refreshed. However, I knew eventually Arthur would come looking for me so I had to finish up.

I wrapped myself in the towel; it covered me from shoulder to ankle and I nuzzled into its warmth. When I was dry I reached down for my clothes but stopped. Was I really going to put the same soiled, blood crusted clothes back on now that I was clean? I didn't have any clothes with me though - it wasn't like Arthur had let me pack a bag for my kidnapping.

The owner of the house though... my mind thought back to the portrait. She looked roughly my size, my build. I'd seen a ton of women's clothes in the closet when I was ransacking the room for snacks. I could just borrow something... that wasn't weird right? Ok, it was totally weird. But I was desperate. Pushing the idea that I might be about to steal a dead woman's clothing to the back of my mind, I checked the towel was wrapped tightly around me and tiptoed into the hallway. I could hear Arthur shuffling around in the kitchen still as I slipped into the bedroom and shut the door.

"Ok..." I pulled open the wardrobe door and studied what I saw. Plenty of fancy cocktail dresses; not quite what I needed. I tried a few drawers before I found what I was looking for: some comfy t-shirts and jeans. No sweatpants sadly. I needed underwear first though.

_Ok now this is super weird... _I hoped I wasn't going to hell for what I was doing.

To my dismay, it appeared that this lady had very racy taste in lingerie; everything was tiny, or had cutouts, or ruffles, or lace. After rooting around for a while I pulled out a dark blue pair of panties and a matching bra. They were somewhat see-through, but at least they'd actually cover my butt cheeks. The bra was a little small when I put it on and I was debating whether I should try to find something better or just layer up a couple of shirts, when I heard a sound that made my blood run cold.

"Miiiii-aaa..." Arthur's voice sang my name a moment before the door handle began to turn.

"Wait- don't come in!" I screeched, but he was already standing in the doorway. I shrieked, and reached for the towel, pressing it into my half-naked body protectively, but not before he had looked me slowly up and down. "I-I'm changing." I stammered. "Get out."

I really wished I'd just put my old clothes back on.

Arthur didn't leave.

After a beat, he grinned and began to saunter towards me. I stood frozen, in disbelief and not certain what to do.

_Whyishecomingoverherewhyishenotleavingohmygodi'mhalfnakedwhatthefuckishedoing_

My mind babbled at me incoherently and I could only stare, trembling as he stopped in front of me.

"What are you hiding under that towel Mi-mi?"

I clutched the towel around me but with an intentional yank he snatched it away, clearly relishing my vulnerability as I attempted to cover myself as much as possible with my hands.

Obviously when he'd kissed me before my mind had gone to some dark places, wondering what he wanted and how far he would go... but I couldn't believe it was actually happening. It couldn't be.

"G-give it back... please..." I couldn't look at him; I was too full of fear and shame.

"Why are you being so coy Princess? I know how much you want my hands on you."

"W-what? No I-I-" I took a step back but it was into the arm he'd just snaked around me and I found myself pressed into his embrace against the wardrobe door.

This time, when his mouth hit mine, his tongue forced its way in straight away, with no patience to tease my lips first. His hands slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head, and his knee pressed slightly into my thigh, reminding me that everything was up to him.

"Mmm-mpphh- n- stop!" I was so done. So done with his games. Rage fueled me to such an extent that I managed to shove him off me. "Arthur... just... just stop! I get it okay?!" I was shouting at point-blank range. "I know you're trying to show me who's in control, I get the idea! I know I can't stop you from doing whatever you want! You don't need to keep proving your dominance! Just... just leave me alone! I know I can't escape so I'm not even going to bother trying so just- just stop!"

When I'd finished my tirade, Arthur looked irritated; I thought he was mad that I was trying to ruin his fun.

"You're still trying to pretend you don't want this?" He almost snarled at me, his tongue darting around as he enunciated. "Why are you still playing dumb Mia? It's getting tiring."

"Wh- Dumb...? W-What do you mean...?"

"Stop denying how you feel." He'd closed the gap between us again; I could tell he had limited patience for explaining himself. "I know your secret. You can't hide something like that from me. I saw it from a mile away."

"Saw what? Arthur I don't unders-" I squealed as he gripped my upper arms with a fierce insistence, almost throwing me back into the wardrobe.

"Just admit it already Mia. You're in love with me. I've known it for a long time." The anger evaporated off his face and he began to laugh, looking to the side with quiet chuckles that evolved into vibrating guffaws. "I caught all the signs. The amount of time you spent with me in Arkham. The fact that you kept coming back, again and again, no matter what I did to you. I saw you always staring at me with longing." He cupped my shocked face in his hands, stroking his thumbs across my cheeks. "The way you took every opportunity to touch me, the way you tried to defend me from the orderlies. Not to mention I saw how miserable you were without me - drinking yourself to death, alone in your apartment. I figured it out a long time ago Mia. You've been in love with me from the moment you first saw me." He smirked. "It's ok. I get it."

"I... I..."

Oh my God.

This man was absolutely _insane. _Well, I'd kind of known that already - why else would he be in Arkham - but this? This was next level. I'd never even heard of person being so delusional. In love with him? Was he _serious_? How did I even reply to something like that? Did I laugh in his face and tell him he was a total moron? Gently explain how wrong he was? Go along with it in case he decided to kill me? I opened my mouth but nothing came out because I truly did not know what to say. In love with him? With _him_? I would've laughed if I wasn't so terrified.

Arthur seemed to take my silence as agreement, and pressed into me, his lips once again going in for the attack.

"Mmm-mmphh-nghh-no! Arthur you're fucking deluded!" His forced kisses helped me find my voice and I was screaming at him before I could decide if I was signing my own death warrant. "There is absolutely no way in _hell _that I am possibly or have possibly ever been in love with you. You are _wrong _and you are a complete psych- mmphh!"

"Mmm... come on Mi-mi." Arthur spoke between pecks. "You practically threw yourself at me yesterday."

"I- that was you!" Was he kidding? "I-I was trying to stop you!"

"Mhmm..." He pressed his mouth onto mine aggressively, sliding his tongue across my bottom lip.

"I know how much you want this Mi-mi... even if you want to lie about it."

He exerted force on my shoulders; I resisted but he was quick to kick my feet out from under me and pull them towards him, the force flattening me against the carpet. I felt his hands slide around to my back, and the temporary rage that had consumed me fell away and all that was left was the fear. I tried to shrink away but couldn't press myself any further into the floor, nor generate enough force to prevent his hands from sliding all the way to the clasp of my bra. Panic descended on me.

"A-Arthur n-n-no... please, p-please don't." I was beginning to cry. "Please... please..."

He continued to grope at the fabric as I struggled and sobbed, holding me still with ease. He seemed to be having trouble with the fastenings, and eventually all but ripped them apart. Very slowly, he pulled the straps over my shoulders; I pressed my hands over the cups in desperation to keep my privacy. They were the only thing keeping the flimsy piece of fabric in place.

I felt his fingertips suddenly trail down my stomach, to below my belly button, and I panicked: I reached down and stacked both hands over my underwear as a protective shield. Arthur was sly, however, and he'd tricked me; he was now free to remove my bra entirely, and he threw it far out of my reach.

"No! Don't-!"

Our arms wrestled; me, trying to cover myself up, him wanting a better view. Of course the stronger of the two of us won, and it made me feel sick how he stared, so lustfully, down at me, half naked beneath him. I couldn't hold back a sob.

"Please Arthur..."

His lips crashed back down on mine as I spoke and I wondered if he was hearing my pleas as me begging for him to ravage me. As his rough hands slid across my stomach I screwed my eyes shut, trying to send my brain into a daydream where this wasn't happening.

_Imagine it's Ben. It's not Arthur, it's Ben touching you._

His fingers reached my right breast and tears slid to either side of my face, wetting clumps of my hair. The way he touched me was so different, so much more aggressive and commanding that there was no way I could trick myself into thinking it wasn't Arthur.

"N-no! Stop!" I choked out a cry as he explored my chest with his hands, squeezing and fondling without making a particular effort to be gentle. His fingers found my nipples and he rolled them between his fingertips, with only a little pressure at first but then pinching hard. He pressed his face into my chest.

"I need to be closer to you Mi-mi. This isn't enough." His words were a murmur from beneath my flesh.

I could see his face paint had left smudges of red, blue and white across my chest, and the trails began to extend down my stomach as he slid his tongue down over my skin. I shuddered and struggled, but he caught my wrists with his hands, now only using his mouth to explore. I shivered with a terrified anticipation as I felt his breath skid across my hips.

"Nngh... no!" His tongue trailed along the waistband of my panties just before I felt his teeth hook over the edge, allowing his hot breath to wisp underneath. With a painfully slow motion he pulled them down, using his hands to assist in stripping them off my legs completely. I was totally bare underneath him. I couldn't have felt more exposed, more vulnerable than I did in that moment. That is, until I felt the tip of his tongue slide purposefully over my labia.

His first lap was gentle; his tongue skated lightly all the way from the bottom to the top of my womanhood, just tickling the top of the folds. I squirmed beneath him, and his grip moved to my hips, his fingers pressing into my butt cheeks as he held me in place firmly. I felt his tongue move across me a second time and let out a strangled moan. He was burying it deeper into me, beginning to lick and suck with such reckless abandon that I nearly screamed from the overwhelming assault on my senses. The experience was such a weird mishmash of confusion; there was a feeling that was so associated with pleasure drilling into my mind but at the same time just complete fear and humiliation that it was being done by the very last person that I ever wanted to touch me so intimately. A tremor ran down my torso and I couldn't stop my hips from bucking; whether it was in desperation to get away or my body responding to his tongue penetrating harder into my folds I wasn't sure.

One of his hands left my hip and that was when I felt something tickling the entrance to my vagina. Before I knew it he was sliding a finger inside me.

"A-ahh- n-no..." I whimpered at the intrusion, though in the back of my mind I was grateful he was kind enough to take it one finger at a time. His fingertip curled and I couldn't stop my butt lifting off the ground as my hips responded. Why was my body so affected by this? I just wanted it to reject it all. But as he added one, then two more fingers it was totally beyond me to not react.

"Unff-" I bit my lip to quell the sounds spilling out of me. Was this pleasure or pain? Disgust or dirty enjoyment? I didn't know. I felt something welling in the very pit of my stomach and it was a huge relief that his next move was to pull away. I saw a hungry look of determination in his eyes as he sat up momentarily.

Naively, I thought that was the end of it - but at the sound of his belt unbuckling I realized there was much worse to come. My eyes widened in horror and I thrashed harder underneath him, completely unable to move my legs since he was now sitting on my thighs as he freed himself.

"N-No... no... no..." I was begging, my voice breathy and hysterical. "A-Arthur please... I- I'll do whatever you want - anything - j-just not that, please, I-"

He was breathing heavily, and I knew he didn't hear me, either deep within his delusion or just past the point of caring.

As nausea welled in my stomach, I felt the tip of his manhood drag like a heavy weight over my inner thigh and, perhaps anticipating my discomfort, he was grasping my wrists, keeping me in place so there was absolutely nothing I could do about this unwanted contact. His length was ever so slightly wet and left a trail of moisture across the skin of my leg before he stopped at my pubic bone. Feeling his hardness pushing against me sent a new wave of fear shivering through my body and it seemed to halt my movement entirely. My muscles gave up; they knew what was going to happen and couldn't overcome the shock enough to change the outcome. My body seemed to just give in to him.

"A-Arthur..." He silenced me with a kiss, pushing the sobs that were waiting back into my throat.

As unwanted as I thought his attempts at foreplay were, it did seem to have warmed my body up to the idea slightly even though my mind was still vehemently against it; when he pushed himself inside me it was less painful than I'd expected. He intruded without a huge amount of resistance, although his total lack of hesitation somewhat added to my discomfort. I'd almost have preferred if it had been a painful struggle for him to enter me; the idea that my body was at all amenable to him was nauseating. As I felt him fully submerge himself in me I let out a small moan of distress, but It was drowned out by his exclamation of satisfaction.

Neither of us seemed to have an ability for words for a moment, only noises. I whimpered as felt his fingertips curl into the flesh on my shoulders for leverage, he grunted as he began to slowly move in and out of me with hard, deliberate thrusts. I almost wanted him to go faster - just to get it over with - but soon regretted my wish when he got into the rhythm or perhaps couldn't hold himself back, and began oscillating at a faster pace. My head hit the wardrobe door every couple of seconds and I could feel my inner walls grating against his length. He grabbed my chin suddenly with rough fingers, dragging my gaze to meet his.

"Mia..." He grunted. "Tell me how hard you want me to fuck you."

I could only shake my head, seriously taken aback by the extent of his grandeur. I knew at that moment that he could only see me squirming with pleasure, begging him to go faster, harder. I knew there was no way I could break through the fantasy he'd built up and I didn't try anymore. I could only wait for it to be over.

His grip tightened unnecessarily. He moved one hand around my buttocks and pulled my cheeks apart, giving him better access to my intimacy and allowing him to press himself even deeper inside me. I gasped at the increase in pain and dug my fingertips into his back, seeking some form of comfort from violence.

"Ungh..." Everything became a blur of limbs and senses and moans. His hand gripped the back of my head with a crushing insistence and my hips protested one last time just as he came to an abrupt stop. He collapsed on top of me, heaving out a long conclusive breath. A growl of satisfaction reverberated through my head, his lips sitting inches from my ear.

I lay still, defeated.


	15. Chapter 15: Aftermath

**Chapter 15: Aftermath**

* * *

When Arthur rolled off me finally, he lit a cigarette almost instantaneously. The heavy sigh that escaped him blew out a large bouquet of thick gray smoke.

I wanted to sink into the floor, to cease to exist, but of course I wasn't allowed that courtesy; propping the white stick between his lips Arthur hooked his hands under my armpits and hauled me into a sitting position in his lap, squashing me tight between his thighs. It felt so horribly unfair that I was naked while he was fully clothed, with only an open fly and disheveled underwear to hint that he'd been at all exposed. I felt it really illustrated the dynamic between us: me, completely vulnerable and trapped, him, entirely in control. A shiver ran down my spine as his slowly deflating hardness pressed into my tailbone. Arthur wrapped his arms around my shoulders and rested his chin over my shoulder, cuddling me as if we were lovers.

"Here."

He had taken the cigarette out of his mouth and was holding it in front of me, the end propped between his thumb and forefinger.

I took it.

God, why did it feel so calming just to suck on this stupid thing? I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirl and vanish into the air in front of me. I was relieved he didn't try to take it back; concentrating on puffing in and out was the only thing keeping me out of the moment, and I didn't want to be in the moment. But of course, Arthur had to bring me back to reality.

"Mia."

_Shut up. Leave me alone._

"Mia." His hand cupped my face and dragged it towards him. He was looking at me, staring into my soul with his intensely green eyes, laughing at me with his stupid fake red smile.

"Mia..." His thumb traced circles on my cheek. "I think I'm in love with you."

Was this all just a fucked up dream? I prayed I'd wake up soon.

I swallowed, and when I spoke my voice was high and broken. "Arthur... I... I don't think you know what love is." I made no effort to exhale the next cloud of smoke away from his face. "I-If you're in love with someone you don't... you don't hurt them."

Arthur's hands moved to the side of my torso and he physically turned me towards him. He cradled my head purposefully, holding my face just centimeters from his own.

"Mia... I would never do anything to hurt you."

He seemed so sincere that I almost believed him, despite still feeling the sting of where he'd hit me and cut my face just the previous day.

"I'm going to take care of you forever Mia. I love you." His arms wrapped around me once more and positively crushed me into his chest, my cheek jammed up against his collarbone. The last stub of the cigarette fell to the floor next to us, forgotten.

My tears made light sloshing sounds as they hit my bare chest and rolled down the gap in my cleavage. "Arthur I don't... I don't want this..." I sobbed. "I-I don't want you to love me..."

"Shhh Mia. It'a okay to admit you need me." He stroked my hair rhythmically. "Who else do you have in your life Mia? No siblings... your parents are gone... your husband is dead. You haven't even been reported missing yet."

I hiccuped with grief.

"But it's okay. You have me now. You don't need anyone else."

He was right; I had nobody. I'd pushed any friends I'd had away in my miserable state of mourning and I didn't have any family to speak of. Was it true I hadn't been reported missing? They didn't even care that I didn't show up for work?

Another sob shook my frame and my eyes screamed in protest as I rubbed them raw.

"Shhh, shuush sweetheart. It'll be alright." Arthur soothed. "I'm here."

Warm breaths struck my neck as he buried his head into my shoulder and he sucked in air as if he was trying to inhale my entire being. I felt the bridge of his nose brush my earlobe, his chin skirt across my collarbone, his lips caress my throat. His mouth pressed down, kissing tenderly, and I whimpered in surprise when his tongue ran along my flesh. I pushed feebly against him but his arms were wrapped around me like a cage and he continued to enshrine himself in my hair. I felt a rush of air as he opened his mouth and suddenly he had suctioned onto my neck and was sucking with an unparalleled determination.

"Ungh... mmm..." A moan escaped me; not because it was painful, exactly, but because that area between my ear and collarbone was just so damn sensitive that I felt like I was melting beneath him. It sent ripples of shivers down my spine and reddened my cheeks.

"A-Arthur..."

I tugged at his hair, my fingers delving into his scalp harder and harder until he must've felt some kind of pain - but if he did he totally ignored it, and didn't relent.

"Arthur d-" My sentence was truncated with a cry. The sensation of teeth sinking into my skin tore the noise from me. He bit down, breaking skin and drawing blood. I was crumbling onto the floor yet he followed.

"Ungh- Arthur... stop..." Those two words seemed to be the only thing I could say anymore. _Arthur, stop. Just stop._

When he pulled away he paused momentarily about a foot away to admire his handiwork. From the smirk that spread across his face I knew he'd left a mark. _His_ mark.

"You are _mine, _Mia. My Mi-mi."

* * *

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when Arthur finally stood up. He shifted me suddenly, though surprisingly gently, before readjusting his pants and buttoning up his fly. Whatever he needed to do, I apparently wasn't privy to it; he left the room without another word.

The second I was positive he was in the kitchen I ran to the bathroom, bolting the door behind me. My dirty clothes were still strewn about the floor and I began to hurriedly put them back on, no longer concerned about their lack of cleanliness. I felt like my old clothes gave me some kind of protection - what had just happened didn't happen until they were off. I wanted to go back. Go back to before he'd taken everything from me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pulled on my shirt and I couldn't help but stop and stare at the glowing purple splotch that embellished the side of my throat, spreading out from the neck of my blouse. I gingerly fingered the surface and shivered; it was like a constant reminder of his presence. My face wasn't doing much better; my lip had had time to swell and a blueish bruise was blossoming above my eye. A sticky scab had formed where his knife had sliced into my cheek. My whole body ached; it was like I could still feel his fingers curling into my thighs and I knew my lower body would be peppered with marks the next morning.

I was crying again. Silent, fat tears were running over the contours of my cheeks before being absorbed into the fabric of my shirt. My knees seemed to give way and I sank to the floor, leaning against the door for support until my temple came to rest against the floorboards. The sobs were starting to shake my whole body and I curled myself into a ball in an attempt to hold myself together.

I was no stranger to grief. It was all I'd really felt for two years. This didn't feel the same though: the sadness I'd felt from my husbands death was so deadening, like it had killed off all the nerves in my body and any ability to feel anything but despair. This was almost the other end of the spectrum; my body screamed with emotion and I felt like I was going to shatter into pieces from the force of it. Images of Arthur's face hovering above mine as he totally consumed me flashed repeated through my mind and I clutched my head as if trying to keep it in one piece.

More of my voice began to sneak into my sobs and I had to stuff my sleeve into my mouth to keep quiet; I didn't want Arthur to come and investigate the noise.

I lay still for a while, blinking slowly, allowing my tears to hit the floor in the same spot over and over.

"Mia."

That was my name. I stared at the underside of the toilet from my position on the floor as reality sunk in once more. Arthur was calling me.

_Shit. _What if I just ignored him? Would that just make things worse? Probably. I sat up, perking up my ears.

"Mi-mi. Come here."

His voice was a little muffled through the door but his orders were clear. I'd picked myself up off the floor and unbolted the door before I stopped. Shouldn't I just stay locked in the bathroom?

"Mia."

I detected irritation seeping into his voice and immediately obeyed out of fear.

"C-coming." At least if he wanted to talk to me in the kitchen we'd be as far away from the bedroom as possible.

He was at the kitchen table, tinkering again with that horribly suspicious device. I approached the table nervously.

"Here-" He grabbed my arm and dragged me unnecessarily towards the kitchen table so that I was uncomfortably wedged between him and a chair. "Help me with this. Hold these down." He pointed to two flat pieces of metal that sat flush with some tangled red and blue wiring.

I didn't move. I didn't really have any experience with these kind of things but if I wasn't mistaken... that was a-

"Don't worry, it's not a bomb." Arthur was watching my expression and seemed to know what I was thinking. He smirked. "It's just a detonator. Now hold these."

"N-no- I-" Detonator? I couldn't say I was surprised but what was it for? When was he going to use it? "I don't want to help you commit crimes! I-I shouldn't have helped you at the bank and I'm not going to help you now!"

Arthur's fingers wrapped around my wrists and jerked my arms over to the table. He placed my hands over the metal pieces and forced me to press down.

"There. Now don't move."

I shouldn't have obeyed but I did, watching worriedly as he fiddled with the wires.

"Don't think of what I'm doing as crimes Mi-mi. Think of it as part of Gotham's - uh - _rehabilitation." _He laughed.

"A-Arthur..." I swallowed. "The people who lived in this apartment- d-did... did you kill them?" I finally voiced the concern that had been plaguing me.

He looked up at me, studying my expression. I wondered if he was enjoying how much this was torturing me.

"Why do you ask sweetheart? Do you want them to be? Do you like this place? You want to stay here is that it?"

"N-No!" I squeaked and Arthur grinned at my distress. "N-No I- Arthur tell me. Did you kill them?"

The silence before he answered stretched out, long and painful, and I dreaded what I was going to hear.

"No." He said eventually. "They're on vacation. This was just a temporary set up I got at short notice." He looked up from the detonator again. "But if you want to stay, just say the word and-"

"No! No, no, no, that's fine, I-I don't want to stay." My fingers trembled, as did my voice. "P-Please don't kill them."

He smirked once more. "Alright, I'm done. Thanks for the help princess. This baby is ready to go!"

"W-what are you going to do with it?" I whispered. Why was I asking? Why did I want to know? The less I knew about his exploits the better.

"Hmm I don't want to ruin the surprise." He stood up. "I need to run an errand."

I recoiled as he bent his face towards me but he was quick to make sure his hands caught the back of my head. His mouth pressed down on mine and paused to savor the moment before pulling away.

"Don't miss me too much while I'm gone."

_Don't worry, I won't._

* * *

It was just after he left that I spotted the empty bowl on the table - the pasta bowl. That wasn't mine. Every scrap was gone, just a hint of Parmesan shavings lining the bottom. So he had eaten it? _Wait, why does it even matter?_ I tore my gaze away. Had he locked me in again? Maybe he'd forgotten? I shuffled over to the door but could already see the heavy padlock when I approached it. As if it was going to be that easy.

I yawned, and it was a backbreaking yawn; my joints creaked and groaned and my head spun with exhaustion. I just wanted to sleep. To crawl under the covers and fall unconscious and wake up back in my old life. I took a step towards the bedroom and stopped. Memories of pain and intimacy and vulnerability crippled me and I knew there was no way I could go back into that room. The room where he'd raped me.

Instead, I crawled onto the couch. I didn't dare take off my clothes, no, I was never taking these clothes off again. I lay awkwardly on the cushions, all bony limbs and aches and pains. Arthur's cruel words echoed through my head.

_"__Who else do you have in your life Mia? No siblings, your parents are gone, your husband is dead."_

I had no-one. The only person in my life was a possessive, psychopathic clown.

_"Your husband is dead."_

I sat up straight, sweat beading on my forehead. The most important person in my life had been my husband. His death is what lead to me having nobody, to my life crashing down around me. How _awfully_ convenient that was for Arthur. A bit _too_ convenient maybe?

I felt sick. I dry heaved, unable to quell the urge to vomit at the thoughts spinning in my mind.

What if Arthur had orchestrated Ben's murder? He knew where I lived, Ben's name, his career - had he enlisted the services of that murderous brute to get my husband out of the way?

It had to be true.

Ben was dead because of Arthur.

Which had an even worse implication: Ben was dead because of _me_.


	16. Chapter 16: Repercussions

Hello! Sooooo sorry for how long this took! I had the whole chapter written but then decided I didn't like it at all and rewrote it but had writers block for a bit. Hopefully the next few chapters won't be as long.

Hope everyone is doing ok in this crazy state of the world right now 3

TW for rape, abuse etc. as usual

* * *

**Chapter 16: Repercussions**

* * *

"Honey, you're home early."

I was sitting on our bed changing into more comfortable clothes when my husband walked in. He approached me, and stood just in front of my knees, looking down at me.

"Hmm, well, I have you to come home to, don't I?"

"I guess you do." I smiled, running my hands down along the back of his thighs. I stood up and slid my hands under his shirt, feeling his abdomen flex against my touch. "Maybe we should make the most of this extra time?"

"I like the sound of that." He grinned. "Just give me one second."

"Wait... what?" That was supposed to be the moment he threw me onto the sheets and we made passionate love. Not go run an errand. Couldn't it wait? "Honey... what are you doing?" I watched him walk over to the dresser and pull open a drawer.

"Just... getting ready."

"Okay..." Maybe he had some new... toys? This was unlike him, but I didn't want to ruin it. "Hurry honey..." I lay back onto the bed and began to unbutton my shirt. "I don't think I can hold on for long."

I'd had time to undress myself entirely when I finally sensed him walking towards me once more.

"Come here baby..." I murmured, as he climbed on top of me. "I want you."

He straddled me and his face hovered above mine.

"What the hell?!"

Ben's face was painted. It was entirely white, with a messy line of flesh near his hairline which hadn't been reached by the paint. His eyes were framed by two dark blue diamonds, his nose, red, and his mouth painted into a wide, unreal red grin.

"What's wrong honey? Don't you like it?"

"I- I-"

His lips pressed down on mine and my eyes closed involuntarily.

"Mmm... Mi-mi... tell me how hard you want me to fuck you..."

"Wait wha-"

A moan escaped me as he teased my entrance with his manhood and I gasped and gripped his biceps tight as he pushed inside.

"Oh... Ben..." I closed my eyes in ecstasy.

His weight pressed me into the bed and I wrapped my legs around him.

"Ben..."

Weird... I didn't remember Ben being dressed in a red suit and green shirt.

"Mmmm... that feels so good baby..." I moaned.

And since when did he have green hair?

"Ah- uh... A-Arthur... oh my god... fuck... harder..."

His face seemed to have changed too...

"Arthur please... that feels so good.. don't stop Arthur- oh god Arthur-!"

_FUCK_

I woke up sweating.

He was taking over my dreams now too? Replacing all of my good memories, the only memories I had left with my husband?

I didn't want to sleep after that, fearing the same dream. Anger seemed to flow out of my every crevice. He was creeping into every aspect of my life, destroying memories of my husband when he, _he_ was probably the reason my husband was dead in the first place.

My mind wandered back to my theory. It all made so much sense. During my time at Arkham Arthur had developed this delusion that I was in love with him and had obviously built a fantasy of being my significant other - the only problem being that I was already married. So he had to get rid of that problem. But why didn't Arthur do it himself? He had no issues with killing people after all, but perhaps he wanted to stay at Arkham where he would see me daily. That was where I'd fucked things up though; he obviously hadn't planned on me just leaving without a word.

It was still dark when Arthur returned. I wasn't sure exactly what the time was but my guess was around 5 in the morning; it looked like the dawn was about to break. Seeing his face was enough to make me seethe with rage once again. I stood up as he entered, my fists clenched by my sides.

"Oh you're awake sweetheart." He didn't seem to notice the loathing on my face. "Couldn't sleep?" He ran a hand through his hair and yawned before dropping down on the couch. He lit up a cigarette.

"Arthur." My lips trembled as the dreaded question bubbled below. "I need to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"Did you... you did... look, I already know... so just tell me the truth. Did... did you kill my husband?"

Arthur's eyes widened a little; if he had any expectations of what I was going to ask, it apparently wasn't that. However, he quickly arranged his features into a smirk.

"I wish I could say it was me, sweetheart. I was certainly thinking about it. But you know who did it."

"You... you wish...?" I swallowed the bile in my throat, trying to ignore his amusement. "I know it wasn't you who did it physically-" I swallowed. It hurt to even talk about it. "-but that guy - y-you... you ordered him to do it didn't you? You paid him to do it?"

"Like I said, I'd like to take the credit but I can't." I waved away the cloud of smoke surrounding me.

"But... you're lying. You did it. You... I know you did it!" I was starting to lose my composure. "You're just lying... b-because you think I'll hate you for it... because-"

The corners of Arthur's mouth curled up. "I know you don't hate me Mia. You can't hate someone when you're in love with them."

"I'm not in love with you!" I exclaimed in frustration. "I hate you! I hate you more than anything and I know you're lying! Tell me the truth!"

He stood up suddenly, and we were toe to toe. I always seemed to forget how tall he was until he was towering over me and it felt like he could crush me in the palm of his hand. He pushed my chin up with the firm tip of a finger.

"I know playing coy is your favorite game Mi-mi."

"I'm not playing games! I- no get off me! I _do _hate you! I hate everything about you! I hate everything you've put me through and I hate you for killing the only person I had in my life!" Angry, grief-stricken tears were pricking in my eyes and I grabbed his hand, pushing it away perhaps a little too aggressively; I noticed the look in his eye that suggested he would give just as good as he got and I lost my nerve, relaxing my grip and taking a small step back.

Arthur seemed to be unaffected by my words; the next thing I knew, he was close to me once more, and he ran his hands up my arms, skating his fingertips along the surface of my skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. "That's not the impression I got when we were tearing into each other on the bedroom floor yesterday." He breathed into my ear.

I shuddered, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. I didn't want to relive what had happened the previous day. Maybe if I sung to myself loudly in my mind I could block the thoughts out.

_LALALALALALA I can't hear you! LALA- _

My eyes shot open as I felt him dip a hand into my waistband.

_"Arthur please... that feels so good.. don't stop Arthur- oh god Arthur-!" _

Sounds and images from my dreams suddenly flashed across the forefront of my mind.

"NO!" I shoved him hard, hard enough to send him stumbling back a couple of steps. I matched this, backing away and putting even more distance between us. "Don't... don't touch me..." I sucked in deep breaths, my chest heaving and tears spilling over my eyelids.

Arthur looked amused but said nothing, and it seemed as though he was going to let it go, for he sat back down, lighting up another cigarette.

"You still haven't answered my question." I mumbled eventually, not looking him in the eyes.

He cocked his head to the side. "I think I did."

"You still haven't answered my question _truthfully._" I sniffed.

"Come over here and I'll tell you."

"No."

"Mia, come over here."

I ignored his command. "M-maybe I will _after_ you answer my question."

"Mia. Come here."

"No!"

Arthur chewed on his lip, staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

And then he stood up again, closing the distance between us as he stalked forwards.

"G-get away from me Arthur! I'm not- ouch!"

He grasped my arm, twisting it awkwardly as he yanked me back onto the sofa and into his lap. I could feel his bony legs against the back of my thighs and feel the warm puffs of smoke hitting my neck as I refused to face him. I wriggled my torso, desperately trying to break the vice grip of his forearm wrapped around my hips but my struggling only prompted him to lock his arm tighter.

With the tip of his finger, Arthur pushed my chin towards him; I resisted and he changed tack, sweeping me right back into the curve of his torso so I could feel the muscles of his stomach pressing against my spine. He rested his chin on the top of my head, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke above me and sighing.

"I'm a bit on edge today sweetheart, and you're making it worse. I need you to help me relax."

"I can't help." I replied shortly, trying to find some purchase to break his iron grip. "I don't care."

"Mmmm... are you sure?"

I froze as I felt something growing progressively harder underneath me; a stiff peak, pressing into my right butt cheek. Arthur's grip adjusted and he moved me slightly, positioning it right between my legs.

"N-no, no I can't, I-" I stumbled over my words, squirming this way and that, trying to find a weak point in his hold.

"I think you can..."

He was efficient, I had to give him that; he wasted no more time sliding one hand under my shirt and up to my breast as the other undid my bra strap. He was much more nimble with it than last time, popping it open on the first attempt. My brain seemed to have hit a seg-fault; it wasn't until he roughly handling my chest that I was able to finally respond.

"A-Arthur stop-" His hand squeezed from all angles: above, beneath, from the side. His index finger circled my nipple slowly and then he pinched, sending spasms to my core. I attempted to pull his hands away, but the panic ate away my ability to fight hard and he was holding me in an awkward position, further reducing my strength. I tugged at his arm weakly. "P-please Arthur... not again..." My face began to crumple.

"Mmhmm..." I knew he was past hearing what I was saying. He spun me around, guiding my knees to either side of his hips so I was straddling him and I could feel his hard length pressing threateningly into my crotch. He encircled my lips in his and thrust his tongue over mine as he already began to lose himself in throes of passion.

I knew from experience that I didn't have the physical ability to get away from him, and this knowledge only made me tremble harder as I knew what was in store. He pulled off my shirt and bra in one motion, only pausing to pull our lips apart for a second.

I was pushing my hands against his chest, trying to break the contact between us when he took hold of my wrists, holding my arms to either side of my body so I couldn't interfere. However, it was clear he wanted to use his hands for other things; he pushed me down onto the sofa so I had nowhere to back up.

"Ngh... mph... stop!" There were only short moments when I was able to voice my distaste due to his mouth being clamped so hard onto mine, and my struggling wasn't getting any headway. I was ready to give up and let it happen, to focus my energy on taking myself out of the moment mentally - but then there was the briefest, absolute slightest of pauses in his grip on me as he moved to place himself on top. Brief - but it was enough; I rolled sideways, falling off the sofa but also finally extricating myself from him.

I ran. My mind shot to the bathroom with its heavy deadbolt. It wasn't a permanent solution but maybe I could lock myself in there until he got distracted by other things?

"Ah!" I yelped as I came crashing to the floor; his hand, wrapped tightly around my ankle, had foiled my escape. I face-planted onto the floorboards, wincing in pain as one of my nose took the majority of the blow. I tried to crawl away, but Arthur quickly flipped me over and sat on my hips, leaning down to lock lips with me again.

I again considered giving up but the first successful escape had given me renewed hope and it was with a redoubled effort that I fought him. If I could just make it to the bathroom...

"No- ugh- ouch- no- stop!" Grunts and groans filled the room as we battled for dominance, though, who am I kidding - it was far too one-sided to be a real fight. All I was able to do was delay Arthur in his attempts to restrain me. Despite a lot of struggling on my part, he successfully pinned both of my arms to the floor above my head. And as he gazed down at me I knew he was enjoying the whole thing; what was a horrific ordeal for me was just foreplay to him.

"Mia... you're such a naughty girl." He kissed my neck progressively harder until he was biting the sensitive area just above my collarbone and I squirmed, my senses completely overwhelmed. I managed to shake my head in protest.

"Hey... Arthur?"

"Hm?"

I hadn't expected it to work; he still held my arms tight, but I detected a lul in his defense. As I moved my knee into position he wasn't quick enough to respond and I was able to drive my kneecap right into his crotch.

"Oof- ha-" He rolled over, beginning to laugh whilst holding his manhood in pain and still seeming unperturbed.

I scrambled up and out of his range, this time making sure not to turn my back to him.

Arthur smirked as he stood up. "You still want to play Mi-mi?" He cut me off as I dodged around the sofa.

"N-no... I just want you to stay away from me." I changed direction, too unsure to make a run for it. With every back and forth he was closing in closer, and suddenly I knew I'd failed again; he cornered me against the kitchen counter, his arms blocking me in on either side. His chest pressed up against mine and I had nowhere to move, no way out of his embrace.

"Oh Mi-mi... I couldn't stay away from you if I wanted to..." He breathed, his lips tickling mine as he spoke. His hands moved to my waist, and spun me around suddenly, dizzying me. He caressed the side of my body, savoring the view.

"N-no!" I shrieked as he hiked my skirt up over my hips and pushed me towards the marble counter top. His forearm was applying pressure to my back and I hit the cold surface, my bare nipples stiffening at the temperature change.

"Mia..." He ran his fingertips over the curve of my spine, circling each vertebrae. "You're so beautiful."

I choked back a whimper. His pelvis was crushing my hips into the edge and my arms were splayed out awkwardly so I was laid out so vulnerably in front of him, bent right over the counter. I began to sob audibly as I felt him slide down my underwear.

"N-n-no... not again... not again... please Arthur." I chanted quietly through tears, already knowing it was too late. I cringed as he ran a finger over my slit, pushing firmly between the folds from front to back. My body didn't seem to be resisting as much as I wanted it to; I could tell his fingers were gliding easily through my intimacy and I knew the lubrication came from me.

_Oh god... Arthur... don't stop! Harder!_

Once again scenes from my dream echoed in my head and I covered my ears and scrunched up my eyes, trying to block it all out.

"I want to play with this little pussy more... but I don't think I can wait..."

I heard the sound of metal clinking, and his belt buckle brushing across my bare behind.

"N-No- Arthur please just- u-ugh... umfh!" I gasped as he filled me to the hilt, stretching me in all directions and punching the sweet spot deep inside of me. "F...fuck..."

Arthur breathed out sharply and my hips ground against the counter as he pushed against me, making sure he was all the way in.

"Fuck." He grunted. He leaned down onto me, his breath skirting against my left ear.

His hands slid over the top of mine which were flat against the marble, and his fingers forced their way between each of mine. He curled his fingers into the gaps, gripping my hands tight from above.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled out slightly, bracing myself for his re-entrance.

"Ah-! U-ugh..." I couldn't prepare myself for the force of his thrusts and I instinctively gripped tight to his fingers that were woven into mine. "S-stop..."

I knew he wasn't going to stop. His pounding in and out seemed to last an eternity as well as passing in the blink of an eye. My breath was escaping in short gasps and I tried to resist the sensation but the fast, repeated stimulus to such a perfectly positioned spot was too much for me to ignore, and as the pleasure reached its peak my back began to arch and I squeezed his hands, easing out a moan as I came and my whole body rippled with aftershocks.

"Ah...oh! ...Arthur..." I whimpered. My knees buckled beneath me but his weight pressing me against the counter kept me from falling, and as he lay against me, no longer thrusting into me, I realized he was finished as well.

He pulled out just as my senses flooded back to me. My face immediately grew hot as I realized what had just come out of my mouth and moreover how my body had just totally betrayed me.

"F-fuck... I- ..." I felt like I had to explain but I couldn't. I pushed against him, once again wanting to run away to the bathroom but he caught my wrist.

"No- Arthur- let me go!"

I couldn't look at him. I knew my cheeks were scarlet and I couldn't bear to see the satisfaction on his face.

"Y-you're done, now get off me!" I attempted to push past him again but held tight, pulling me back towards the couch and down onto his lap once more. His arms slid around mine and he traced my lips idly with his thumb.

_What is happening to me? _

_Why is my body acting this way? _

_It was like... like I wanted him to do those awful things to me. _

I let out a noise that was a mix between a shudder and a sob and I trembled, holding my arms protectively over my chest as he embraced me. I was too confused to resist any further, but didn't return his embrace either, so lay awkwardly in his arms. My mouth twitched and I felt a desperate need to be distracted by something. I licked my lips and my mouth felt dry, empty; I realized I was longing for a cigarette. That soothing, burning stick to occupy my mouth and slowly switch off my brain.

I looked down, surprised Arthur hadn't already pulled one out. I could see the square bulge in his pocket and slid my fingers under the fabric, fumbling for the packet.

Arthur seemed to misunderstand my intent as a smirk stretched across his lips and he squeezed my hips.

"Oh? Ready for a second round already Mi-mi?"

I shivered and shook my head, unable to voice my horror; luckily my hands finally closed around what I was looking for. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lighter. I shook as I fumbled to pull out a cigarette, finally lifting one to my mouth when Arthur stopped me.

"H-hey-!"

He took the packet and lighter and put two cigarettes between his lips. I watched him as he lit them both, taking a long drag before holding one out to me. I was a little repulsed, but took it anyway; I just wanted it so badly and as soon as I took the first suck I felt soothed.

* * *

I woke up with a start - at first wondering how I'd managed to be relaxed enough to sleep but quickly switching to _who is banging on the door so loudly?_

_BANG BANG BANG_

"Open up right now!"

I spared a glance at Arthur and could tell from his expression that he wasn't expecting anybody.

"This is the Police!"


	17. Chapter 17: Escape

**Chapter 17: Escape**

* * *

"P... police?" I looked at Arthur again.

"That's unfortunate. C'mon Mia." He stood up, lifting me off him but keeping a hand pressed on my shoulder.

I stared at the door, realization trickling over me. The police were right on the other side of those couple inches of wood. People who could rescue me from this monster. I was free. I took a step towards it and Arthur's grip tightened.

I ducked out of his clasp and attempted to sprint forwards, but he caught me by the arm once more.

"Time to go Mia."

I tugged at his fingers, which were wrapped tight around my forearm, still staring at the door in wonder.

"Arthur get off me-" He was pulling me back, pulling me away from potential freedom. I whirled around angrily. "Let me go! Stop- Woah!" I shrieked as he threw me over his shoulder, with seemingly little effort. My world turned upside down and my stomach pressed into his sharp collarbone. He locked me in place with his arm, which sat a little too uncomfortably high up my thighs. I twisted my head and I could see the door quickly getting further and further away.

I screamed.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

"Hey! Open up or we will use force!"

_Use force already! _I screamed internally.

Arthur seemed surprisingly unfazed, despite being so close to getting caught. He carried me to the bathroom, bolting the door behind him. I wondered for a second if his plan was to barricade us inside - did he really think that would work? However, he quickly strode over to the window and a cold sweat fell over me. Was he planning for us to shimmy down the drainpipe? We were so high...

"A-Arthur..." I gulped. "I can't... we can't-"

I shrieked and threw my hands in front of my face as he shoved his elbow into the glass, smashing it to pieces that flew everywhere. As I peered through the hole he had made I saw a solid platform and a set of stairs.

_Are you kidding me?! I could've snuck out down the fire escape this whole time? _

"You first sweetheart."

"M-me?" I looked at him in shock, but quickly realized that there was no way he would leave me in the room alone. Of course I wouldn't follow him through. He looked at me expectantly but I didn't move.

"Up and out."

I shook my head.

_CRASH_

"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

The police had apparently broken through the front door, and Arthur suddenly had no patience left for my antics. Hauling me over by the arm, he pushed me towards the window, boosting me up with his shoulder and all but throwing me through the small opening. I was glad he'd done a clean job of smashing the glass; there were no shards left to slice up my skin. I decided to change tack; as soon as my feet hit the ground I started to run. But Arthur was incredibly nimble, scrambling through and catching up with me in an instant. He wasted no time and began to drag me down the fire escape; it was painful not to follow close behind him with his vice-like grip on my arm but I resisted anyway, hooking my feet into any gaps in the iron posts.

Arthur stopped suddenly, wheeling around to face me.

"Mia, keep struggling and I'll throw you off the side." His tone was icy and he pushed me against the railing. "I'm considering it regardless."

His words made me look over the edge and I immediately wished I hadn't; the ground seemed to be a distant speck, a blur that would kill me on contact. I became all too aware of the winds blowing through the fragile metal structure we were on, threatening to send me flying. Oh god, we were high up. My legs became jelly and I wobbled forward, instinctively grabbing onto Arthur for support. What scared me even more however, was how quickly and severely his demeanor had changed; barely minutes ago he had been cuddling me on the couch and now he was threatening to kill me? Something in his eyes made it hard for me to doubt his warning.

"N-No- don't! I'm sorry- I... I'll go... I-" I just wanted to be on solid ground again. Even if that meant going with him.

Arthur hopped down the stairs with a speed that was much riskier than I would've liked but I had no choice but to be dragged with him, his hand now firmly braced on the back of my neck. I focused on looking straight at the stairs in front of me, instead of to the huge chasm surrounding us.

There was a black van parked just past the bottom of the stairs,

"Get in."

But we were back on the ground, and resisting was fair game once more. Of course I wasn't getting in the van; not while the cops were so close by. Arthur didn't seem surprised by this; he maintained his grip on me and calmly marched me around to the back, throwing me in through the rear doors and slamming them behind me.

"Let me out, Arthur!" I tugged at the doors but they were locked from the outside and I kicked the metal in frustration. "Arthur!" I screamed. I knew he wasn't listening and didn't care, but it was at least an outlet for my anger.

I felt the engine juddering at the front of the van and almost lost my balance when we started moving; the acceleration was so sudden I was sent staggering towards the back.

"Ouch-!" My head collided with the side as we turned a corner and I squatted down, huddling in a ball to minimize the surface area to be battered around. I suddenly regretted struggling, wishing I was at least in the cab with a seat belt on.

Sirens blared behind us, keeping chase. I felt another jolt as the van accelerated once more.

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting thud above me, and I could see a huge dent in the metal ceiling. Then I seemed to be floating near the top of the van, like the whole thing had become an anti-gravity chamber.

And then my world went black.

* * *

The sensation returned to my hands before anything else, and my left had felt stiff and sore, taped up with something sticking in the back of it.

_Hospital?_

I sat bolt upright.

That was a mistake. I was immediately riddled with pain along every nerve in my body, particularly my torso, which ached deeply all up the right side. I winced as I lowered myself back down into the mattress. I wiggled my toes and fingers, relief washing over me as I realized I at least wasn't paralyzed. There were bandages around my left wrist, right bicep, forehead, both knees and my rib cage. I felt like I'd been mummified. I was obviously heavily drugged up too; my body moved much slower than my mind told it to, my vision was framed with a gentle blur and I was feeling a lot less panicked than I probably should've been.

My eyes swept the room: nobody wearing clown makeup in sight. That seemed like a good sign. But where was he in that case? What had happened to him? Did the police catch up with us?

The nurses and doctors weren't giving me any answers, despite how many questions I asked. All I could gather was that I'd been in a car accident; the last thing I remembered was being shut in the back of Arthur's van so I assumed something had gone wrong with the escape. I didn't get a definitive answer until I was visited by a police officer a few days later.

"How are you feeling Ms Lawson? I'm Officer Blake." A young man took the seat beside my bed as I pushed myself into a sitting position, wincing at the effort. "Oh please, feel free to stay lying down, I know you're still injured."

"It's fine." I dismissed his concern, eager to talk to someone who might actually know something.

"I was wondering if I'd be able to ask you some questions - I don't know how much you remember, don't feel like you have to push yourself, anything you can recall could potentially help."

"I have some questions too, if that's okay."  
"Sure, why don't you go first?"

"What happened? I remember being in Arth- the Joker's van. Did it crash?"

"Yes. It flipped."

"Flipped?" My eyes widened. No wonder I felt like someone had shoved me in a tumble dryer full of bricks. I knew I was in pretty bad shape but it was mostly fractures and bruising, apparently the only thing I'd broken was a few of my ribs. An accident like that, without a seat belt? I got off pretty lightly.

Blake seemed to mirror my thoughts. "From what I hear you're very lucky to be alive, and in one piece. Not just because of the crash but because you were taken hostage by the most dangerous man in Gotham."

"Did... um... what happened to the Joker? Is he in custody?"

"Uh...he was..." Blake scratched his head uncomfortably. "We had him, but..."

I shivered in fear. Not even Batman could handle him?

"Not only did he escape... he kidnapped the district attorney Harvey Dent and his girlfriend... and..."

"What?"

"She didn't make it. He... he's in a nearby ward. Concious, at least."

I twisted the sheets together in my fingers.

"What's strange is that the Joker has been radio silent for a few days. He's been going about causing absolute chaos for weeks but then he totally dropped off the map." Blake sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking far too weary for a man his age. "His inactivity... it lines up pretty well with the time that you were missing."

"..." I shifted uncomfortably. No wonder they wanted to question me.

"Ms Lawson, do you know why he kidnapped you? What happened those few days? Did he hurt you?"

My mind flashed through the events of the last few days and a hot, red blush crept up my face. How was I supposed to tell him any of that? It felt so shameful, I felt like I'd been permanently marked by him - nobody would be able to look at me with any respect again. And what if they started to think I wanted it? That I was in leagues with the Joker? "I-I..." I looked away, biting my lip in a fierce attempt to prevent myself from crying.

"Oh hey-" Blake placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "If you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine. I know it's really fresh."

"N-no it's fine..." I mumbled, swallowing hard. "I... nothing happened really... He just kept me in that apartment for a few days, he wasn't even there the whole time."

"Do you remember anything suspicious he said? Did you see anything suspicious?"

"He... he didn't talk about any of his plans... I- I don't know..." I rubbed my arm, wishing I had any information that could help. Everything that did happen - it wouldn't help them in any way right? I hoped it was okay that I skirted around the details. "Oh there was one thing..." I twisted the sheets in my fingers again. "He was building some device... he said it was a... a detonator." I looked away in shame, remembering how he had forced me to help him with it.

"Hmm." Blake expression darkened. "It's very possible that was used for the set up he had for Dent and Dawes..."

"What?"

Blake looked uncomfortable, seemingly wishing he hadn't mentioned it. "They were both rigged up with explosives."

I gulped, feeling sick all of a sudden.

"E-Explosives...?"

"Listen, the other reason I'm here is about your protection." The topic change was unsubtle, but I was grateful for something to stop the horrific possibilities of what Arthur could do next flashing through my mind. I looked at him questioningly.

"With the Joker out of custody - we're not sure if he has any reason to kidnap you again or not - but we're going to have an officer stationed outside the ward until you're ready to be discharged. We might need to take you into protective custody, but that'll all be explained to you if and when it happens."

I nodded silently. It was nice of them to do so, but it didn't make me feel at ease. If Arthur wanted to come get me again, that's what he'd do. They wouldn't be able to protect me from him. However, at the same time as utterly terrifying me, the realization gave me a resigned kind of strength. I accepted it as the inevitable. I was in some way prepared for it to happen. Surely there was something I could do even... some way I could use it to my advantage? Maybe if I wore a wire I could help them catch him?

_No... he would find it in seconds the first time he rips your clothes off. _

I shuddered, dismissing the thought. Even if it would work, there was obviously no jail that could hold him.

"Anyway," Blake cut off my quickly spiraling thoughts. "I'd better get out of your hair. Rest up Mia, I'll be back to check on you in a few days. And if you remember anything else or have any other questions, feel free to get in touch with me."

"Thank you, Officer."

* * *

There wasn't much to do in the hospital. Moving around too much was painful, and I wasn't allowed to drown my thoughts in a bottle of wine so all I could do was slump in front of the TV, watching all the hours that I was awake. The channel was stuck on 24/7 news, so I was constantly tortured with having to keep up with the depressing current events of Gotham city. They seemed to particularly enjoy covering the story of Harvey Dent and his girlfriend, over and over again.

_"So we're here at the site of the explosion that took attorney Rachel Dawes, eyewitnesses say police were arriving at the scene just as the bomb went off..."_

_"Dent is currently in stable condition, recovering from severe injuries to the left side of his face in the burn unit at Gotham General. Here to talk to us today we have the top surgeon in Gotham..."_

I covered my face with the pillow.

_"Dent is just one of many to be targeted by the notorious Joker, Commisioner Loeb and Officer James Gordon being among his victims as well as failed attempts on Mayor Anthony Garcia..." _

I considered calling the nurse to shut the TV off and Officer Blake's words echoed in my head.

_"__Before that he was radio silent for a few days. He's been going about causing absolute chaos for weeks but then he totally dropped off the map."_

He'd been too busy for his schemes, huh? Yeah, because he was too busy repeatedly violating me.

But just then a horrible, yet brilliant thought dawned on me. I obviously had some sort of purchase over Arthur; although not direct control, I had some effect on his desires, his priorities. What if I could save the city from him? Keep him distracted, convince him to leave these destructive plans of his alone? And maybe I could get him to admit to the truth about killing my husband.

A strange mix of fear and excitement pulsed through me. I would be sacrificing myself entirely but... if it worked... how many lives would I save? It would almost be awful if I _didn't_ try... nobody else had this opportunity, I couldn't just ignore it. It would be like turning my back on Gotham entirely.

It wouldn't be just going back to him though, I'd have to give myself over to him entirely, give up my life as I knew it... but was that really so terrible? It's not like I was particularly attached to or even happy with anything in my life right now. Maybe if I could do this one decent thing for the world I could die happy, feel like I made a difference? Instead of sitting home alone every evening slowly drinking myself to death.

Memories of his hands on my flesh crawled into my mind, dismissing the idea completely. I couldn't go through that again. Besides, we had Batman right? He would save us, surely?

My doubts crept back in the third time I was visited by Officer Blake.

"Good morning Ms Lawson. Sorry to bother you again."

"No problem Officer. How can I help?"

"A bit more of the same to be honest; I know we've been over this a lot but I was wondering if there was anything else you possibly could've missed."

"I don't think so... he barely spoke to me." It was somewhat true. Obviously I still hadn't disclosed exactly what went down but I didn't think I was leaving out anything important. "Is... is Batman looking for the Joker?" I asked tentatively. "Can't he catch him?"

"I'm sure Batman is doing everything he can... but the police force can't rely on a vigilante to do their dirty work for them. If we want the city to respect us at all we shouldn't be asking for Batman's help."

I looked away. I had absolutely no faith in the Gotham police force when it came to the Joker.

"Can you describe the detonator to me again? How many buttons did it have?"

"Um... just one I think."

"And roughly how big would you say it was?"

"Why do you need information on the detonator? I thought he already used it?"

Blake looked uncomfortable. "Well... further investigation has been done where the Joker was holding Harvey and Rachel, and the explosives he used had a different kind of timer-based detonator. It doesn't match your description."

A jolt of horror shot through me. "So you think he's planning to use it for something else?"

"It's possible."

I shivered.

_If nobody stops him he's going to blow something else up. He's going to kill more people._

* * *

"Uh... hm?" I woke up with a jolt to a loud bang nearby.

I looked at the clock; it was nearly lunchtime. There was nobody in the room with me, but I could hear a commotion coming from all directions in the hallway, nurses running, patients being wheeled frantically past my doorway. I was wondering if I should get up to investigate when a nurse entered my room.

"What's going on?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes as she approached me.

"Oh nothing to worry about dear, just some patients coming into the ER."

There was something weird about the nurse's voice; it was unnaturally high-pitched, but somehow weirdly familiar. I peered up at her face and jumped back. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

"A-Arthur...?" I reached up and pulled back his mask, revealing a toothy grin.

"Miss me sweetheart?"

Adrenaline shot through me so fast that if I hadn't been watching him closely I'd have sworn he injected something into my IV. I felt a knot of dread and terror settling in my stomach but swallowed hard, trying to ignore it. I knew it was only a matter of time before he came to get me again.

"Um... are you wearing a wig?"

He snickered and primped one of the curls on his poofy brown bob. "Does it suit me?"

I opened my mouth but found no words, wondering how this man making lighthearted jokes was the same person who killed several people without even thinking.

"Why... what are you doing here?" As if I didn't already know.

"I'm here to rescue you, of course." He grinned through his painted smile. I winced as he pulled the IV cord from my hand, ripping off the surrounding bandages. He pulled back the sheets, looking at me expectantly.

This was it; I had to make a decision. Life with Arthur or life on the run from him?

"Let's go Mi-mi." He held out a bony hand to me.

I hesitated for a second, gulped, then took it.

"Ok."


	18. Chapter 18: Belly of the Beast

**Chapter 18: Belly of the Beast**

* * *

My legs buckled as soon as I stood up; the only times I'd been on my feet in the last week were when I went to the bathroom, and that had always been with assistance. My body groaned in protest and I grabbed onto Arthur's elbow for support. I struggled to keep up with his strides and he didn't seem to notice the difficulty I was having.

"Arthur... do you mind slowing down a little?" I gasped, breathing heavily.

He stopped to look at me properly for seemingly the first time, raising his eyebrows at my crippled state. He didn't comment, but put the cigarette he was holding into his mouth and hooked an arm around my back, resting his hand just below my armpit and lifting just enough to take most of the weight off my legs. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into his torso.

It occurred to me that we'd made it out with suspicious ease. Didn't Officer Blake say there was supposed to be a policeman outside my ward? Where were they? Had Arthur killed them? The thought made me gulp and glance sidelong at him, but he seemed preoccupied with rummaging in his pocket with his left hand. I also noticed that all the rooms we passed were entirely empty, and the commotion I'd woken up to had been replaced by an eerie silence.

"Where did everybody go?" I mumbled, mostly to myself.

As if on cue, Arthur found what he was looking for.

"A-Arthur- what... what is that?!" I panicked as he held a device up in front of us. It was the detonator. "Wait! What are you doing? Stop-!"

Before I could even think about intervening, Arthur had pushed the button.

I screamed as there was a loud bang behind us. Fire alarms began to ring and smoke flooded the hallways.

"Arthur what the- are you- are you blowing up this hospital!?" I shook his arm in disbelief. "The hospital that _we're in right now_?"

Arthur just grinned, dragging me towards the exit.

_This man is INSANE!_

I stayed close to him, shrieking as more explosions triggered behind us. How could he be so calm? If I hadn't been relying on him half-carrying me I would've already sprinted ahead and got the hell out of there.

Once outside, Arthur half pulled, half carried me over to a nearby school bus that was sitting in the parking lot. I tried to ignore the continuing explosions behind us but every one made me flinch violently.

"Up you get sweetheart." He lifted me, scooping up my legs and placing them inside then pushing the rest of me into the vehicle. The bus had already begun to move while we were climbing inside and I lost my balance, falling into one of the seats. Arthur scooted me over in order to sit down next to me, then pulled me onto his lap.

I stared out of the back window in horror as we drove away: the entire hospital was now consumed with fire and black clouds, collapsing in on itself completely. It was gone.

I clenched my teeth. How many people had still been in there? Barely ten minutes in and I'd already failed to prevent the death of potentially hundreds of people. Why didn't I stop him? Wrestle the detonator out of his hands?

The weight of what I could or should've done was bearing down on me and I couldn't take it; I knew I wouldn't be able to survive this if I let it get to me. I had to just tune it out, not dwell on it. Whatever worked to get me through this.

A huge bang echoed behind us once more.

_Block it out. _

It was then that I turned to the front of the bus and saw two other men. They were dressed fairly normally aside from cheap looking clown masks that covered their faces. One of them was staring in my direction, and even though I couldn't see his expression behind the mask I knew he was probably wondering what on earth the clown prince of crime was doing with a random girl on his lap. I realized I was still only wearing a hospital gown and a pair of panties and I pulled on the hem self-consciously, looking at the ground. Arthur's arm was hooked tight around my waist and I could feel the vibrations of the wheels on the road through his lap. He didn't speak, but lit another cigarette and slid his free hand onto my thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb and digging his fingers in slightly.

"We're here boss."

I guessed we'd been driving for around 20 minutes, so were likely still in Gotham. Were we crashing another empty apartment?

Arthur climbed out first and lifted me down before heading to the front of the vehicle. The driver stayed at the wheel but the other man followed us to a large grey shop door. Arthur handed him I couldn't see, but I caught his words.

"Dispose of the bus. When you're done, kill the driver. You'll get his cut."

"Ok boss."

He pulled me over to another smaller door, unlocking it and not noticing the disgust plastered all over my face. I stopped him before he could drag me inside.

"Y-you're just gonna let him kill the other guy?" I asked incredulously. More deaths I was failing to prevent.

"Keeps things clean."

"B-but... those are people's _lives_!"

"They're criminals Mia. What do you care?" Arthur shrugged dismissively.

"Oh? So what's your excuse for my husband then?" I couldn't bite back the retort. "_He _wasn't a criminal!"

Arthur ignored me, and the conversation ended abruptly.

_He doesn't have a good reason. _I thought angrily.

I let him lead me into what looked like a parking garage or warehouse, dimly lit it and with shipping pallets full of boxes instead of cars. He took me to the side of the room.

"Stay put."

"Wait- where are you going?" I didn't like the idea of being in such a creepy, unfamiliar place by myself but Arthur was already gone, making his way back to the entrance in long strides.

I spotted a bench nearby and hobbled over to it, grateful for the opportunity to sit down once more and not have to support myself on my useless legs. I stretched out, breathing out the discomfort in one long sigh.

Several minutes passed before the door opened once more and I began to stand up, expecting Arthur. Instead, however, entered two men wearing cheap plastic clown masks, just like those on the bus. I froze, not wanting to be noticed, but there wasn't much else to look at in the dingy garage.

One of the men lifted his mask; stopping to look at me. He looked in his early forties, disheveled with dark stubble and scruffy hair. There was a tattoo on his neck, only just visible above his jacket collar.

"Oh? What's this piece of ass doing here?"

I looked up. There was no way this guy was talking about me. Surely not. I wasn't _that_ unlucky.

"Hey darling, you alright over there?"

His partner scoffed. "Come on man, he told us just to grab the shipment."

He was walking towards me. Shit.

"You lost doll? Need some help?"

I shrank into the bench, trying to make myself look smaller. I'd just assumed it was going to be Arthur and I alone, like before. When did he get henchmen? Were they going to be hanging around here? Was... was he going to let all his men... have a piece of me? I wrapped my arms tight around my chest, breathing rapidly. _Oh God. What the fuck did I do? _I was in way over my head, why on earth had I thought this was remotely a good idea?

"Did you hear me?"

"Hey, dude, leave it already. Let's go." I prayed he would listen to his partner.

"I'll just be a minute!" He stopped in front of me, peering at my face.

"Hello? Can you talk?"

"Get the fuck away from me." I hissed, swatting his hand away as it reached towards my face. Yes, perhaps I had to tolerate being constantly manhandled by Arthur but I didn't sign up to abide even a leer from anyone else. Especially anyone who referred to me as a '_piece of ass'._

"Alright darling, don't get your panties in a twist." He sneered. "I was just being polite. You just looked like you need some help." He leaned into me and grabbed the hem of my gown. "You look like you just escaped an institution. You wanna come with me and get cleaned up?"

I pushed him, hard, and every bone in my body winced.

"Leave me a-"

_**BANG**_

Any background noise there had been was replaced by just a high pitch ringing, and I didn't hear so much as a _thump _as the man collapsed into the seat, before falling to the ground in front of me.

I looked up to see Arthur already swinging the barrel of his gun towards the other man, who was panicking.

"Boss- look, I didn't touch her I swear! I tried to tell him-"

_**BANG**_

He hit the ground, gone.

A crimson pool began to blossom between the two bodies. Two pairs of hollow, dead eyes stared up at the ceiling, mouths very slightly open. My ears were still ringing.

I was crouching on the floor in shock and I was only vaguely aware as Arthur led me away, with a firm hand on the back of my neck. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the scene and bent my body around to keep staring.

We took a large industrial elevator at the back of the garage that took us up several floors to a small, one bedroom loft. I let Arthur steer me to the couch and sit me down, his demeanor entirely unconcerned.

It shouldn't have come as a shock to me that he was able to kill so easily, and that he was going to continue to kill. But it did. And I still felt the tears pool in my eyelids as I struggled to find words to ask him what on earth he'd just done.

"A-Arthur... what... why did you..."

"Shh, sweetheart." Arthur's hand slid past my cheek and under my ear, and it was filthy - filthy from the debris of the explosions and the blood that had splattered from his victim's skulls.

"Y-you... you killed them..." I began to cry. "...without even a second thought-"

"I was protecting you." He stroked my cheek but a terrifying fire blazed in his eyes.

His words didn't make me feel remotely better and a heavy sob rippled through me.

_Block it out, block it out. _I chanted to myself.

"Nobody touches you... you're my Mia. _Mine._" Arthur glared at me angrily, as if I had contradicted him, his fingers tightening under my jaw and pressing into the hollows of my cheek. "I'm not letting anybody take you away from me again."

I twisted my fingers together. Did he miss me that much while I was in the hospital? It had only been a week! I balked at the strength of his feelings but at the same time felt horribly ashamed because I knew that it was because part of me sort of _liked _what he was saying. I never thought it was possible for someone to want another person _so_ _badly_ and it felt _good_ to be wanted, that I could possibly mean so much to someone. Even if it was Arthur.

_You meant a lot to Ben. Your husband, remember?_

My mind scolded me and guilt pooled in my gut. More-so because I wasn't convinced; Ben and I loved each other very much, of course, but it had been very... vanilla love. I didn't doubt I meant a lot to him but he was very relaxed and carefree, never jealous or possessive. I had never experienced such a pure primal _need_ before and that was what was coming off Arthur in waves; just complete unfiltered desire. His intensity was positively terrifying but at the same time...

_What the fuck am I thinking?_

I suddenly felt sick, disgusted by the thoughts that were running through my mind. Arthur was a _despicable_ human being, he treated me like an object, his desire just came from a need to control everything around him. He would never love me or take care of me like my husband had and he didn't have a good bone in his body.

I pushed away his hands, which were still under my jaw and in my hair, my face flooding with a deep red flush.

Arthur didn't object, much to my relief, and I rubbed the tears from my eyes as he stood up. He scraped a hand through his greasy green locks, standing with one knee slightly bent and his head tilted. He was staring at me, chewing the inside of his lip, and for some reason I couldn't break the eye contact between us. His gaze was so intense, it felt like I didn't have permission to look away.

"Lets take a shower."

"A..." I gulped. "Shower?" I squeaked. I shouldn't have been surprised; this is what I'd signed up for. Still, I'd foolishly thought I'd be eased back into things. Then again, maybe it was better to just rip the bandaid off right now? A shower really did sound nice; I was flecked with dust and blood and god knows what else. "O-ok." I replied quietly, standing up before I had the chance to change my mind and run for the hills.

Obviously Arthur hadn't been waiting for my consent; he was hanging his jacket on one of the pegs by the door and kicking his shoes off. He took my wrist and led me into one of the plain rooms.

The bathroom was equipped with a tub-shower combo, with a cheap plastic curtain and a leaking faucet. Before I could look around completely, Arthur had turned me around and was undoing the buttons on my gown and pulling it down over my shoulders. I stepped out of it obediently, shivering slightly in the cold. I wanted to be the one to take my panties off but he stopped me, insistent on doing it himself. He ran a finger down my spine and I blushed.

_Block it out._

He undressed as well, and he'd never been completely naked in front of me before and it made me feel minutely better that I wasn't the only one so vulnerable, though I'm sure he didn't feel as such. I couldn't help my eyes raking over his body and it looked so much frailer than I imagined. In my mind he was so strong and undefeatable, surely he absolutely rippled with muscle? But in reality the muscles that were visible were only there because he had absolutely no fat to cover them, and they were joined by his bones jutting out at all angles. My gaze had drifted a little too low and I looked pointedly at the ceiling, feeling a hot blush on my cheeks once more.

I stood nervously, waiting for him to turn the shower on and hunching my body over slightly, trying to cover as much of myself as I could. Even though he'd already seen all of me multiple times it still felt like the first.

"Come here."

Arthur had stepped into the bathtub and under the now scalding stream of water.

I tried to climb in with one motion but my body protested the idea of only holding my weight on one leg, and I collapsed into him, wincing as every joint groaned at the impact. His arms were strong around me and he lifted me up and over into the tub. My face pressed into his torso and I inhaled a strong smell of smoke intermingled with something like hand sanitizer.

He grabbed the soap and a sponge and began to clean me, and even though his hand held my bicep tighter than was comfortable - a fierce grip as if he expected me to run away any second - he was surprisingly gentle otherwise. The bandages on my ribs were somewhat waterproof and seemed to be withstanding the flow of water but Arthur deemed them in the way and tore them off. He scrubbed my skin in circles, starting with my shoulders and working his way down my torso, never missing a spot and moving me around as he needed to. His manhood was pressing in to me and it wasn't hard, but it still felt huge against my thigh, sending an ominous shiver down my spine.

"Turn around."  
I let him guide me so I had my back to him and he cleaned the back of my neck down to my butt. Soon after he crouched down to clean my legs and I had to lean against the tiled wall for support now that he was no longer holding me up. I felt my cheeks flush crimson as he reached the top of my thighs, thoroughly cleaning every part of me.  
He moved me under the water when he was done and the remaining suds were washed away; I turned to take the sponge but he was already scrubbing hard at his own torso, scrubbing far quicker and harder than he did for me. His makeup had washed off and without it this felt far too normal, far too real. Who would guess this frail, fairly normal-looking man was Gotham's most wanted criminal?

There was only one towel and we had to share it but he dried me first, rubbing my skin a bit raw. I followed him into another new room that contained a bed - barely bigger than a twin - a dresser, and an old-looking floral lamp. I guessed Arthur didn't care much for luxuries. I was grateful to be able to collapse into the bed even if it wasn't so soft; it was a welcome cushion on every part of me that hurt. Arthur rummaged in the dresser and pulled on some underpants and something crucial occurred to me.

"Arthur I... I don't have any clothes..."

I expected him to make a crude comment about how I should always be naked but instead he looked at me quickly, contemplating, before replying,

"I'll take care of it. Wear this for now."

He handed me some underwear and one of his shirts - a bright, mustard yellow one that couldn't have fit him any better than it did me; it fell almost to the middle of my thigh, and dwarfed my arms, my hands hidden up in the sleeves like a child.

"Thank you..." I said quietly as fumbled with the buttons.

Arthur lit a cigarette as he watched me struggle and I felt his hands over mine as I reached my navel.

"You can stop there." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "I think I like you in my clothes. Maybe I won't bother getting you any of your own." I squeaked as his hand slid over my ass, clenching tight for a brief second.

_Block it out, block it out._

We left the bedroom once more, heading back to the couch once more. Arthur sank into it and pulled me with him, sweeping me right into his lap and pressing his chin to the top of my head. His arm was wrapped tight around my torso, at just the right spot to be too painful for me not to say something.

"Ouch... Arthur... you're hurting me- my ribs-" I pulled at his fingers but he clung tight to me; it didn't seem permissible that I would be the one to determine when he stopped touching me. He turned me to face him, moving my legs to either side of his hips and placing my arms over his shoulders.

"Hmph. You're so broken, sweetheart." He scowled slightly as if it was my fault, and pressed his thumb to a bruise on my arm. "But... maybe this will help you remember where you belong. That you need me to keep you together."

I didn't like the sentiment in his words and had to stop myself from throwing him off me and screaming that I would never need him. I swallowed hard and looked away, settling for silence.

"Say it." He demanded, after a pause.

"Say... say what?"

"That you need me. Say it."

"I-" It took a lot of effort to swallow my pride.

_Block it out, block it out._

"_Say it_." Arthur insisted.

"I... Arthur I need y-."

I was cut off before I could finish for he kissed me urgently, pressing our lips together fiercely and without his greasy face paint it felt different somehow, more bearable. I kept having to remind myself not to push him away though and I still couldn't quite bring myself to kiss him back - I just let his lips move around over mine. His hands gripped tight to the back of my head, holding me to him. It was obvious to me that he wasn't capable of anything but forcefully taking what he wanted, perhaps because he'd been so deprived of his desires for his entire life.

_Why am I the thing he wants? Can't he want something else? Someone else? _

I felt him growing beneath me and knew it was time to brace myself; perhaps this would be easier the third time. It wasn't his manhood that I felt suddenly teasing my bud however, but his fingers, which had snaked their way under the elastic waistband of my borrowed underpants. I gasped as he began to slowly stroke my clit; the pressure was firm enough to make me squirm and he seemed to like that, picking up the pace slightly. I clung tight to his shoulders and he bit down on my bottom lip, at the same time reaching through my open shirt to grope my breast. He twisted my nipple and I hissed quietly; it hurt, but it was a different kind of pain to what I'd been feeling since the crash, and it was almost nice to have something to distract me from the constant dull ache of my ribs.

His fingers ventured farther back and all too soon he'd shoved two up inside, not waiting long enough before adding a third and making me gasp in pain. However his thumb hooked around and continued to stroke the outside, soothing the discomfort with undeniable pleasure. His fingers moved in and out of me with more ease as they became slick with lubrication and I couldn't bite back a moan, though I successfully muffled it in the crook of his neck.

And then his hands were gone and he was releasing his intimidating length from his underwear. He pushed mine to the side and I opened my mouth to ask him to go slow but all that came out was a whimper as he'd already forced me down onto him.

"Fuck... Arthur..." I breathed his name. Apparently he didn't mind if I swore during sex and I was glad because it was the only possible way to express the sensations I was feeling. He filled me up so completely that it surprised me that I was able to move at all. Indeed, it was Arthur who had to do most of the work, but it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. His hands gripped tight to my hips and he lifted me up and lowered me back down repetitively, each time hitting something inside me that made me gasp and clutch onto him harder. His hands wrapped around my butt cheeks and squeezed hard, at the same time spreading them apart, opening up my pussy more. I felt myself sink further down onto him and my breath grew short.

"Oh my god- A-Arthur-"

He was so deep inside me that it was a little painful, but it couldn't cancel out the pleasurable sensation that was pooling between my thighs. I wrapped my arms around his head, worried that I wouldn't be able to hold myself upright, and found my hands tangling into his hair. He took the opportunity to bury his face into my neck and suck on the sensitive area above my collarbone.

"H... ha... hff... Arth... ur..."

He stood up, and we were still joined; we flipped around, my back hitting the couch with my legs hanging off the edge. He leaned down into me, restarting his pace with an even more ferocious intent. He was pumping in and out, fast and hard, and I knew he was close to the edge.

Then his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, gripping tight with his thumb pressed squarely into the center of my esophagus. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my voice grew hoarse. He clenched tight and it was as though he was using his handhold to pull himself closer and farther inside me. It scared me, seeding possibilities of him accidentally choking me to death in his passion, but at the same time sent a wicked thrill coursing through me, straight to my core. Before I knew it my own hand was wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place and begging him to keep going.

"Arthur... h-harder... oh... Arthur I- I..."

_I what?_

I wasn't sure what I was planning to say. There were so many options ranging from _I hate you_ to _I think I'm coming_.

"Oh god..!" Was all I could manage; my body had taken over and was demanding satisfaction by whatever means possible and without caring about the consequences. As he plunged into me one more time it was all too much and I collapsed in on myself, my toes curling and my torso arching into his. Waves of pleasure hit me and I quivered, feeling every ripple, before gradually unfurling and clinging onto Arthur as his rhythm continued. His breath was now coming in short and fast and I knew he was close; I held on to him tight with my legs wrapped around his hips until I felt him grunt, shudder and gradually slow his pace.

I held onto him, not wanting to end the experience only because I knew it wasn't long before the shame kicked in; the guilty thoughts were creeping in on me from all sides.

_I didn't enjoy it, I was just getting it over with... I was just playing the part._

To my relief Arthur handed me a cigarette before my thoughts could entirely take over and I sucked on it gratefully as he pulled me back into his lap.

"Arthur..." My voice was barely a whisper.

_Why did you blow up the hospital?_

_Why did you kill my husband?_

_Why did you bring me here?_

_Why me?_

"Hmm?"

"...nothing."

He pushed my chin towards him and traced the outline of my lips.

"I missed you, sweetheart."

"... I know."

I never would've admitted it, but I knew somewhere, deep inside, there was some dark part of me that missed him too.


	19. Author Note

Hi all! By request of an anon reviewer that I can't reply to, I wanted to give an update on this story! (Sorry I didn't do this sooner). I'm taking a break from this story to write a Harley/Joker fic but I will get back to this one when I'm done! However, I decided I'm just going to post on Archive of our Own from now on, so check me out there (for when this story updates and for the jarley fic). Same username (makecents)!


End file.
